Dear Beloved

An open letter to everyone I’ve ever convinced myself I loved.

I.

I am still sorry.

I fear that you were just the

first in a long line

of men I will be

all too willing to bury

my loneliness in.

II.

 Now that I’ve figured

that you wronged me, I am not

ready to forgive.

III.

I loved you more than

you knew, but you were still right:

it was not enough.

IV.

I have learned what the

infinite tastes like but

I still haven’t learned

that people can’t be

 fixed because they aren’t broken,

or that I deserve

better.

psychosomatic

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i’ve grown accustomed

to the pain. in your absence

everything else aches.

Gossip

for D.

With the righteousness of youth

I convinced myself

That sharing whispers

-of your weight

-of your diets

was made nobler by the secrets

(my secrets)

you’d spilled like ink.

Indelible,

Unforgettable,

Unforgivable.

But ink fades.

Salt

I dreamt of salt

and woke with my mouth watering.

I dreamt of salt

and awoke in a blanket of sweat

and the scent of the sea

clogging my nostrils.

I dreamt of salt

and woke up bitter.