The ****** of the old
The brake of the new
The opposite
Of which
You want to do
As long as it's funny
Then that's what
We have gone through
As long as the
Essence
Is pure and true.

My cheeks are rosy,
You're making me blush,
This flirty little game
Is a heavenly rush.

Everything feels lovely
When it’s all brand new,
Overthinking tomorrow?
I’m really trying not to.

So tell me I’m pretty again,
I’ll reward you with a smile,
Maybe we won’t get married,
But I could enjoy this awhile.

You brush hair from my face,
Soft touch, sweet and shy,
Little moments like this
Are reasons I sigh.

Your laugh makes my chest ache,
It’s light, it’s carefree,
I tuck it away safely
As a secret just for me.

Dance with me in the street
While we're still young and free,
Whimsically fall in love
Until you start to resent me.

you told me you could never be a poet
but
my eyes are like cats eye marbles
and
im a reminder of flower fields
at night
fireflies dancing between
strands of grass
and
dandelions
you used to write me poetry
with verses of
"i love you"
and
"see you tomorrow"
but
you told me you could never be a poet

If you went on
Who do you think you are?
And found out
Your great step uncle
Was a high ranking ****
Or a distant cousin
The head of the Stasi
Would you feel complicit?
Even though your bloods
Arent that near
Cos it seems
Some of mine
Were Lodz ghetto
World War Two
Profiteers.

Thoughts twist me, into acrostic knots.
The knots, that nimbly choke...the clots, that simply grow.
I can't escape the thoughts,
like they were wadded ropes.
I flail, the plated locks...
and fumble, bladed keys.
But I can't break the seams;
that go on, breaking me...
I can't evade, the dreams...
with nothing next, to me.
So, even strengthless peace...
becomes the enemy.  
And though I feign, release...
and fake, control of these...
These ******* painful things...

they take ahold, of me.