Sawyer Fell

I felt your footsteps on the stairs again –
I heard the creaking from the wood.
Daddy, this house is banal and rusting –
It badly needs some polish and oiling.

The paint on the walls is flaking off

my dear, we are the romantics-
we are the tingle in spines-
the rush in the stomach of blossoming lovers-
the citrusy taste of a future
spent in butterfly gardens
while leisurely drinking wine- 

Climb into our bed beside me.
Let's tangle up like yarn in a basket- 
Carefully knit together my hands 
To yours- mindlessly leave notes  
With a sultry undertone
In your kisses- rid my scars with your

Death is a homeless cat
Sleeping outside your door- hesitantly
Prowling on the porch, while
Searching for its ultimate owner.
It begs for leftovers,
Mewling in desperation

If I gave you the keys
Would you settle down in my money pit heart?
She’s a fixer-upper,
But you always loved the feeling of a hammer.

Together we’ll work these calloused hands –
Compose a home fit for the two of us.

When I straightened my posture-
Creating (and becoming) a statue as 
The pinnacle of impeccable posture- 
It seemed to be that I no longer
Held this deep-seated weight 
On my once infamously slouched