If you love me, Henry, you don't love me in a way I understand.
Richard Siken
This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard, and make a wish.
death end hard love evening
poetry
Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.
poetry crush
We pull our boots on with both handsbut we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorryabout the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
Who am I? I'm just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure, I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow glass, but that comes later.
dreams future writer glass write
You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened. Your co-workers askif everything's okay and you tell themyou're just tired. And you're trying to smile. And they're trying to smile.
breaking-up
The blond boy in the red trunks is holding your head underwaterbecause he is trying to kill you, and you deserve it, you do, and you know this, and you are ready to die in this swimming poolbecause you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this meansyour life is over anyway. You're in eighth grade. You know these things. You know how to ride a dirt bike, and you know how to do long division, and you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unlesshe keeps his mouth shut, which is what youdidn't do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn't matter anymore.
gay
How we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days were bright red, and every time we kissed there was anotherappleto slice into pieces. Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it's noon, that meanswe're inconsolable. Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. These our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we'll never get used to it.
obsession
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