190. Your house is too large compared to mine.

He kisses me with blood on his mouth
then he is in a golden field
and I am missing my flight again.

A hand has an anchor
tied around its finger, dangling.
It is trying to remember
the color of bravery.

189. Haiku: On the moment flecked with gold that became the very beginning of a problem.

I do not say yes
often. But there was something
in the way you asked.

188.

I prefer you in the moments
where you are not paying attention.
When you laugh too strongly
and the lines of your eyes emerge.
When you catch me listening
and it startles you.

Sometimes I wait for you
to become an animal
and run. You are used to people
watching and touching.
Not listening.

You would prefer that I not see
things. Keep it simple,
remain inaccessible.
I would have preferred that you didn't
see me either, but
accidents happen.

When it is winter,
I think of my stepfather,
and his bloodstained clothes
that were brought home to us
in a plastic bag.

I treat everyone as though
they are already a ghost.
So when you worry
about getting close to me:
don't.

187.

When you are drunk and on the sidewalk
shivering in your black tights
he spins you around to point out the dippers,
but you can name Jupiter
before he does.

When you finally sleep with him
you refuse to take your underwear off first.
You are incapable of being naked
before the other person.

This is what you do,
even though he is always the guide,
the responsible one that takes you home,
holds your hand when it's too dark, and when
it's not, and opens the car door for you
every time.

Everyone is always asking what you want
and the best you can tell them is,
everything as it happens to you.

They ask you why it isn't good enough,
how you can want both more and nothing
in the same moments. It's easy,
you say. Tell them you live in a house
with too many rooms.

Tell them, that things are not supposed
to love you.

186. Haiku: On why you should not be in love with the winter.

Because, goddamn, when 

is the last time you let some-

one take care of you?

185. Haiku: On when he asks you.

You want this to mean
something and you do not want
this to mean something.

184.

I imagine
introducing you to my friends
and them falling in love with you
within the first five minutes.
Being snowed in together,
wearing sheets and listening
to the steam of the radiator
and the flakes falling asleep
against the windows.
Making you breakfast
and giving you the last handful
of blueberries.
I miss missing someone in a way
that doesn't make me feel
like my body is about to fall
to pieces. I dig holes in people
but I can't make a home
out of them. I'm sorry
for that.