C-L-S

I want you to kiss me until my lips bruise and pucker and purple and all I can taste is the inside of your mouth.

Lying in my bed

Staring at the ceiling

Rethinking the day

Going over everything I said

Everything I did

But please

Don't tell my friends

About my excessive overthinking

summer's like  /  skips on a record player, pink and beat up by two moving vans and two generations of children who danced to the Bee Gees on  /  rugs that aren't there anymore  /  i have successfully wasted three mon

If only I could hug

The stars;

Perhaps I could shatter them

And cup the shards

In my palms,

The cracks constellations

Aligning with my veins,

But that isn’t close enough

                                                          anyone