Goddess Rev. I'm Online

i am the irregular pulse beating in your irregular places.
i come unexpected and you jerk like
i'm a shock.
i am the feather falling gracefully,
falling in love awkwardly,
falling over, under, into --
i am falling irregularly.

i am the burglar of your teddybear dreams,
the editor-in-chief of mischief,
the personifications of vice and sin,
the deaf soldier flaunting tired fatigues
burning the mandolin your dead grandmother
gave you for your fourth christmas
because she played silent night
while you waited for santa to take you to neverland.

(and he's never coming;
i poisoned his cookies)

i'm the teardrop falling from the sky
and the raindrop falling down your cheek.
i'm your sunburn; i'm your sunscreen.
i'll be the one who hurts you and then
makes you feel better.

i'm the chill of your broken backbone,
the tingling of your scoliosis spine,
the twisted kitestrings in the relationship
you let go of,
and the fever in your knotted bowels
from a hard day's gossip
and a long night's secret.

i'm the disbelief of the inevitable
and the sorrow following disappointment--
nonono, i am the disappointment.
i'm the argument and the settlement.
i'm the rotten apple core
that you've thrown out the car window
and have left to decompose.
i have fallen and landed
and have been left to become one
with the earth's crust.

i'm the x-coordinate;
you're the y-coordinate,
but we're on different planes
and our flights sail
to different planets,
so i know we'll never
collide to the origin
of where we never started.

(the endpoints were never drawn)

i'm the trigonal graph with scattered dots,
and the empty box-and-whisker plots
on the deciding test to win you a pirate's scholarship to the community college
i used to teach at until
you applied for lust 101.

(and quite frankly, your ap classes are cheating on each other)