The only one
That can turn an overwhelming moment
Into a lovely memory

o, crashing doubt upon us,
such as gravity grounds meteors,
burning us smaller and hotter,
as we rip along through
layers upon layers of atmosphere.

Impact was subtle though,
with nary a crater
or fissure between us,
and we cooled down softly,
slightly steaming
on a December afternoon.

It's our love of course,
and our friendship,
that let us perforate the skies
without qualm,
or any harm
to become of us.

Neck bent a little far to the right
Impressions of sheets in skin wrapped too tightly around willing wrists
Makeshift bandages for cuts that have closed but still bleed.
You must be out for coffee
Or on a call that couldn't wait
But Sunday's are for rain and dreams you can't quite remember
And secrets tucked in a leg bent at the knee.
I can't tell the difference between lust and love making anymore though I'd like to still believe in the latter.
You return and I lose myself in the corner of your eye and I hang myself there on those lines
Allowing myself to kiss you there just once for fear of becoming too entangled
A sweet suicide that'd be
Gasping for air
Lost in your laughter

maybe it's the weather
maybe it's because i'm turning a year older
but whatever it is, there is something
that gobbles me up from inside
and my bones get weaker and
my chest feels heavy and
i want to die

sunday to sunday i crawl to cling on to life
and i scrape my knees on the sidewalk
i think of tiny things that could possibly
change my tainted view of living,
i think about you.