an ocean heart

Three poems written the same night

I.  
I wished for a thousand ways
to separate myself from you

Born from sorrow
this weird child
Takes over my body
by tuning the radio of my heart
to white noise and secret signals

To secret signals I can’t read

Because
this is how it feels
sometimes
All the time

This sorrow is not me
I am not the product of
Misfortune
I am not

I cannot be one of Misfortune’s daughters

II.
With bruised half moons
under your bloodshot eyes
you silently hang your head
heavy
Staring at your curled feet
lemon tears burn your skin
(Can I put my feet next to yours now?)

III.

The station of your heart
is cold and rainy on infinite midnight
and I think I missed the last train

(I always do)