gently
engulf me
with the heat
of your body
it would
be a pleasure
to die
by your hands
.

Most shared nights start with blissful lies told to the doorman. You’re going to a fancy party; you’ll probably sit next to someone famous. Lean on perfectly polished bannisters down golden stairs.

Party dresses attend cocktail parties and you’re the tux. She rests her hand. Tails and all like a penguin. Don’t they mate for life?

Laughing down gum stuck pavement. Her heel caught in the sidewalk, fractured. But you got to carry her letting fingers find homes in the places she bends.

You told the doorman another lie.

Can I borrow your pen from chap stick moist lips. There is chalk on your hands, some on her cheek. It washes off pretty easily.

Her polka dot dress sways with the wind, it’s in your favour. Holding hands down lit up boardwalks. Letting lazy breezes dance her hair to the sky. A picture worth a frame, but you’ll have to clear a space.

Short walks home turn to long conversation on coloured pavement. Jumping on the numbers you’ll slide into her pocket. Cracks make everything so beautiful.

You don’t count them on your way home anymore.

"some bright nowhere
of broad fields and sunlight
that was my idea of heaven
one long afternoon"

“Night’s Thousand Shadows,” Christian Winman

Make yourself out of pieces
that don’t always fit
because not all puzzles
need to be finished.
Let yourself be good days
and bad days.
Days made out of
blanket forts and
Sundays and
some bright nowhere.

You don’t need
to ask for forgiveness
like individuality is a sin
promising God
that next time
you’ll get it right.
As if right is unwavering
and wrong can’t be fixed.
Life can just be made
of broad fields and sunlight.

Don’t grow old
as if age is
something important.
No one knows what way to grow
because up isn’t always best.
You can live in the sun
without reaching for light
Sometimes you can sleep
in the shadows of the grass.
That was my idea of heaven.

Don’t hide
behind a chorus
of the things you meant to do
like harmonized regret
pressed against the hope
that living
is following a formula.
Living can be
something simple, just
one long afternoon.

and out of
like loving the sky
when the breeze is just right
and the stars
remind you of
freckles and
cities and
all the reasons
you left them behind
.

I am sweet as tea and hard like dry earth
water me
smooth like slip you can build me with clay
you can live in my sun I will protect you
if you’ll let me
let me
why wont you let me
my fingers have lost the places they used to tap
snap
I am distracted by you
I move under your hands don’t let them empty
I would let you drown me because I thought you were the only water I would ever need
pick me up like chords and harmonize
with me
why do they always break at the bridge
crack when everything feels like it's going right
we can slow the speed please lets just not stop
you've left me with whiplash bruises and I
am still just milk to you

my name is
it’s okay if you don’t have time for me
but mostly
I go by
I’m sorry
.
I’ve recycled all the ways to apologize
but I’m sorry
is the simplest
the sweetest
the one that makes me feel most
like I deserve to be wrong
.
Some days I apologize
so much
I’m sorry
for being sorry
and I still cant help
but think
that I’m not good enough
.
I’m sorry will be the words
I remember
when I’ve forgotten everything else
so I can make sure to say
I’m sorry for dying
but also I’m sorry for living
and mostly I’m sorry for taking up your time
.