1.
Lace                                                                                                                   January 29th, 2015 
The phone rang with my final trip down the stairs, 
"VIC, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE"
Near dropping the phone, I quickly hushed it, sent a quick call rejecting text, and tucked it back into my comically large jacket. I rounded the railing for the last time and snuck out the back door, sneaking my way through the snow, 
Sorry Mom.
My walk had quickened itself into a jog before I had a chance to realize, and I met her car at the end of the street, she had it clicked off so no one would see the lights, but that had left her freezing. Hopping into the passenger side seat and throwing my duffel bag into the backseats she groaned at me, 
"Hey," 
She started the car and turned on the radio, 
"Get out okay?" 
"Yeah, I don't think they noticed." 
"Did he call you yet?" 
"Yeah," 
I chuckled to myself, 
"As I was going down the stairs. Praying they didn’t hear anything."
"Christ, shoulda just had you call when you got here," 
She put her thin fingers on her forehead and sped up, leaving the night sky to look more like smears of black and blue paint that had started cracking in some places. An acoustic cover of "Ain't No Sunshine" came on the radio and I drifted in and out of sleep as she drifted around highway curves and drive thru corners. 
-
We met them all at an economy motel the next morning, her eyes were dark from her midnight driving and attempts to live off of Country Style coffee. 
"Babyyyyy," 
He shouted once we had swiped the key card through, and I wasn't sure if he was talking to me, or my ride. 
"Lace, Lace, Lace, oh, how I've missed you," 
He grabbed my shoulders and held me at an arms length to look at me, moving his hands, I felt my body get sharply tense, 
"Missed you too, Vic." 
Laughing off my awkward bodily reactions, I went to sit on a bed with some towels and girls I hadn't met before, dressed in blacks and browns, making my dirty white tee shirt look even rattier; undeserving of Vic's attention. At least the other groupies knew the uniform. Why did he want me to move out here? Why had I agreed?
My driver took herself to the balcony and smoke a "chick cigarette".
I sat, longing; him and her strawberry coated nicotine.
 
2.
1. 
Area code gone,  
Ran away from it all now,  
Couldn't keep lying.  
2. 
She whispered, "I'm so-"  
"Sorry", couldn't let it come,  
Come from a war zone.  
3. 
Winter has worn on,  
Cracking lips, ice and down coats,  
She wears dryness so.  
4. 
Walking under her,  
Pressed against this hardening,  
Cold, bright lights, ring cold.  
5. 
Seeing her with him,  
So pathetically clear,  
That's plainly frozen.  
6. 
She told him it all,  
My guilt dry as her cold lips,  
Whispered; "You're better."  
7. 
Winter has worn on,  
Seeing my own flaws; canvased,  
Come from a war zone.  
8. 
Her dry lisp; my hate,  
Hatred, hated, all a loss,  
Can't get her away.  
9. 
We're stuck from afar,  
Lost in communal hate, now,  
Used to be in love.  
10. 
"Used to be" he shrugs,  
Ran away from it all now, 
Couldn't keep drying.  

3.
Lace                                                                                                              November 19th, 2015 
Kicking my stiff combat boots off while settling onto my bed, I found myself at the eye of a very hectic storm of "student life". Otherwise known as the cute description of disenchantment. He'll be by again tonight, bringing lord knows what to occupy the dead silences with, but at least he'd be over. 
Tearing myself through housework to make sure he didn't see the rotting apples on the desk corner, the bundles and bundles of socks that are still damp with muddied down Gain, and the countless makeup wipes scattered around my futon, I found myself doubting it all. These "sessions", this time together that seemed to be just sloppy therapy, were dimming in glint, while nothing felt better than kissing the edges of his beard and feeling his arms intertwining with themselves on their journeys around me, I still felt myself slipping up, making countless mistakes, in this obsession.  
He was him, and I was myself, and the fact that we had found each other was miracle enough in of itself, but somehow, despite our shared consciousness selves laying tandem to The Doors, I felt that our summer wine had aged too long.  
My highway of fears had finally been cemented, and now that he had seen me further than the girl he could depend on for a good laugh, bang and editorial, he was starting the car away, and I was to be left in the blown out exhaust.  
And maybe I was okay with that, though I knew I wasn't, not at all.  
This was the first time I had loved like this, first time I had lusted for someone's voice harder than their body, the first I felt needed and wanted. 
But this schedule: this talk for an hour, this watch a 90s rerun, this make "adoration" since he still hasn't said he loves me, this teen girl caught up in this university man, this talk for half an hour, this watching him leave, this hearing him say he'll text me, this him getting frustrated with honesty, this leaving everything I used to love for him, and this whole routine of me blaming everything on myself, has gotten ominous, the hanging fear of his feelings were becoming fatter than me, and it was much to heavy to hold anymore.  
Tried and true, glorious at first, but now it just reeked of my own worries; so did this apartment.  
This goddamn apartment, with clothes scattered across the floor, dishes undone in the sink, and my sanity abandoned in my bed, begging me to join it back in the covers. Where the voices and I were quiet and I could remember the times where he held me here, through the thoughts he didn't know I was having. The times where all that mattered was my head on his chest and his hands holding my shoulders so tight that I was pressed back into what could look human, instead of the monster he must admit that he agrees I am.

4.
Crypt.  
 
Thuds unfamiliar,  
"Are you there?",  
Shrieking in the streets.  
 
Thuds pounding close,  
"Can you see me?",  
Destined insanity; yet I am still in shock.  
 
Thuds throughout,  
"HEAR ME!", 
Sanctuary of sheets.  
 
Thuds breaking the glass,  
"SEE ME!", 
Lifting my belljar.  
 
Thud.  
Thud.  
THUD. 
 
"HEAR ME!" 
Only to be replaced with smothering,  
Thuds receding, 
 
"Thank you for your cooperation."  
Where am I? 
Crypt.

5.
Vic                                                                                                                November 19th, 2015 
Clicking the keys and driving past these town lights, finding my way along the highway to her.  
Her, with her cloud of angel hair, her ivory pale skin, her oceanic eyes and her devotion to my every breath. I couldn't imagine much else.  
Granted, she constantly made me worry, often with her own insecurities, but often with just the way she was. Telling me about the writing the screaming had inspired, or saying she was going to go for a run along this abandoned highway after her evening shift; she had this tendency to make me want nothing more than to watch over her, make sure she's safe, and keep her out of pain.  
Her shoulders as smooth as Raven claws and hair frizzed into the scruff on my jaw, she seemed so innocent, and I, so possibly ruining. I just want to keep her pure, purely this.  
But she too often doubted why I wanted her here, those insecurities fighting their way into me. Praying each chord could make the bills, wishing I was going home to her, her cooking, her smiling, her refusal of pants, her without pain, and her with understanding.  
But, sometimes we gotta do what we don't confess.  
Pulling my high beams on I raced against the pine trees and felt my body redden with the thought of seeing her again, seeing our home again, and seeing her piles of junk again.  

6.
Sweet, honey, moon,  
Lain, over the land of bread and milk,  
Sweet, honey, moon,  
Hearing him sleep beside me, I forget the frigid night,  
Sweet, honey, moon,   
His novellas falling onto mine,  
Coffee stains and ladies in waiting,  
Sweet, honey, moon, 
Every breath; sweet. Every sigh; light.  
Sweet, candied, sun,  
Lips bumbling across each other,  
Living in this honeymoon,  
Milken skin dripping with honey,  
He shows us the land of prosperity before we.  
Me, we, me, 
Milken skin dripping with honey.