When I think of the drive home
I hardly remember a thing.
Just the time
and the wide open space,
the way my heart ached.

The sky was light that day,
which to me seemed appropriate.
My outsides never matched insides.

See, I remember my insides
a tangle of intestines
a wild thrumming heart that beat
and bruised my insides
my insides
inside
You. Could never let me inside.

Outside we were a fissure.
But me—my insides
soaked in sun, drenched in love,
dry to the bone
and your outsides, I—inside
a steel safe just beneath
the skin

When I think of the drive home,
I hardly remember a thing.

I have daydreamed
love-drunk off foreign tongues
and felt that heat off hands which held fast
and unfamiliar.

I have waded in that.
A dizzying, dissimilar daze,
and I have been ashamed
to love a world and want to leave it
all in one kiss. One kiss
that is and wasn't and can't be

but someone roams the wisteria laden halls
and daydreams drunk in periwinkle
and she—is me.

And while I wile away my sleeping days
under golden archways, I think of you
...and you too.

your hissing  tongue
pierces once again
vile words, berating my worth
only I have learned (at last)
to disentangle my heart
from your snare's belittlement
staring into the unwholesome sky
with muted lips
awaiting tomorrow's painted beauty

I only want two things in this world,
You and your love.
30/9/2020

If I could be the moon
I would not shine, but
My grey dusty bones would spin
Endless

Let me pull you in, my ocean
Let me push you away, my sea
Let me stay in orbit, my bittersweet gravity

I am alone
Do not look up at me
You will not see my dark side weep