It is sometimes that i realize how much 

I love him

Like when I am supposed to be 

Sleeping; 

But instead i am lying awake listening

To him bustle about 

The kitchen underneath 

Me

And i catch 

A small smile 

Tugging at me 

As he hums—

albeit off key—

a tune that i once sung to him. 

Or when i am in the car and 

I can feel his voice vibrating in

The leather seats as 

We swerve down the road. 

(his hands never were steady.) 

it comes to me when i embrace him, 

inhaling the smell of coffee beans and lost sleep lingering on his cotton shirt. 

It’s when i daydream of when i used to beg to ride on his shoulders, and when i cry silently when he seems lost in his own 

Hopelessness

Stress

Dedicated. 

i dont like the way you look at your feet when i whisper to you.

Biting my nails,
watching the time,
Finger on the trigger,
glass of wine.
Can you tell it’s mine?

Reverie lost in time, clouds in the sky,
like when your mind is mine,

Ive got my hold on you now,
Can’t escape what you found,
wave my hand and make you bow,
give it up to me,
im on a power spree.
You’re not getting out of here alive,
It’s part of my game,
You’re all fair game.
Tastes just the same.
 

It is in the in between that 
I live,
the unknown and 
unrecognized reverie
that consumes and spits me out
every day.
 

He lays in my lap,
His red curls
Matted.
A faded memory of sleep.
His eyes flicker open
And closed,
His slip-on shoes dangling from
His feet as he swings them
To a familiar tune.
My hands card through his hair; 
A silent oath of my love,
I can feel his untouched energy– even in
his early morning haze– 
Radiating off of him and
Into every direction.
A warrior,
Beautiful in his strong stance.

Why am I so tired,
when I have barely lived?
Maybe I should...
 

if secrets could be captured,
they’d roll right of your tongue,
and run down the drain;
begging to tell me what you heard. 
and maybe it’s a funny thing, 
because nothing in life matters,
but id sooner die 
then let you hurt her. 


 

Her face
illuminates
mine
Stunning in
her sin and
disease
pulchritudinous even to a
king
an ineffable
deity
Breathing
my light blue
perfume in
ounce by ounce
and breathing
out pretty
lies
they warned
me about the
ones like
her,
pretty girls
with pretty
lies.

To her
I was nothing more than a 
conquest
a new muse 
to paint 
and then remove along
with the spring cleaning. 

To her
I was nothing but a breathing flaw,
her calloused hands the answer 
to fix me

My tears were the footnotes no
one ever
cared to read.