We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.

The keys have never lied to me;
They really only sing
Echoed notes to my favor:
Utmost passion, pain, pining.
Four worn walls of floral
Patterns once were vibrant.
Torn and tattered blossoms of
Pastels in alignment.

There is a view of the terrace,
But my song cannot be free.
The sill is chipped and window locked,
Sun’s outline halos, mockery.
My hands don’t shake across my board
Nor tremble ruined red lacquered.
Composing now my newest start
Arranging how I want to feel and
Fill my place with hopeless heart.

Serenade my soul, please,
Even with my mistruck keys.
The shadows grow so long here,
Dear, they always frighten me.
Dark hair turned amber gold,
Iridescent,
So I’m told.
But I’ve only love for which I cannot hold.

I do not play with another,
Lest they feel the need.
No one else can play the same;
My jumbled notes? Your misread.
Regardless of me all,
The dust collects around.
Yet shimmering like diamonds
As they catch the sunlit crown.
But silently they fall away,
Hiding faded footsteps where no one stayed.
And so I no longer wait for them;
Press the pedal yet again.
Find their portraits on the porch—
Mourning sound my keys had then.

I see you’ve gotten the old brass doorknob to finally let you in,
But you’ve disturbed the patterns on the water-damage within.
Come and sit beside me now on this wooden bench
Creaking gently through my chamber with no chance for French
Exit as you’ve entered now.
The warm light
Cascades on my
Ivory.
Touch on me your melody.
It may not ring as it once did,
But I shall share it as we wish.

You're always forging me,
to see how far I'll bend.
Hammering me down,
to see how low I can go.
Your heat dances close to me,
but I can't let everyone down.

Though you terrify me,
I would probably still let you cradle me
in your cast iron vice grip
and sing me to sleep,
like Louis
like Ella
crooning,
when I can't breathe.
You could reel me back in
with the promise of
creating something beautiful
and maybe not feeling so
empty and alone
all the time,
but I can't let everyone down.

Your atmosphere ***** at me
and I'm dragging my feet through your sludge,
plodding forward with my eyes cast down.
You know when my mind wanders
or when I'm filling my voids,
so you can sneak in through the cracks
and take your place in my subconscious,
but I can't let everyone down.

I try to remind myself
why your comfort isn't worth it;
like peaking out of my blinds
or chatting with insulation
(pushing me towards one last line)
or fearing the world outside
altogether.
I'm scared because I know
that you're the only thing
that has ever felt like home to me,
but I can't let everyone down.
I can't let everyone down.