We stand on the dock,
The sun has set,
But I can see your happiness
Even in the dead of night.
The streetlight's on,
The metal is all rusted
And covered in salt,
And you push me up against it.
The metal cool on my skin,
Cooler than the water
When we dip the tips of our toes in,
Laughing about nothing at all
And I think I can get used to this.
there's a jar on my nightstand;
it used to be my grandmother's
but i recycled her memory
into a pandora's box full of happiness.
the slips of paper are periwinkle
with dark purple penned messily,
I wake up under covers or chains,
Alone in a bed I didn't sleep in,
Clothes like a straight-jacket around my limbs,
My thoughts locked in the prison of my brain.
Outside it is snowing—a cotton cover,
my horoscope said i would lose someone dear to me,
you've never really believed in that astrology,
but i click on yours, and what i see staring back
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