You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room.

You’re falling now. You’re swimming. This is not           harmless. You are not                     breathing.

Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.

We can do anything. It’s not because our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making those long noodles you love so much.

Wearing your clothes or standing in the shower for over an hour, pretending that this skin is your skin, these hands your hands, these shins, these soapy flanks

I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you've taken something out of me and I have to search my body for scars.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else.