The love poems make sense.
The songs make sense.
They always made sense.
But they never made sense.

forget to tell her goodnight
after you have
made her cry,
she probably cried in her dark bedroom all alone
while she held her childhood teddy bear
close to her chest

tell her that it's all in her head
and that she is overreacting
when she is starting to break down
and tell her to stop when she starts
having problems getting air into her lungs

tell her you'll call her,
but instead go out and party all night
and make out with random strangers
who you find attractive in your drunken haze

I guess you're still
Reading by now.

Your voice (that you try not to hear
While you're reading to

Yourself) would lull me to
Sleep if I heard it as

Closely as
You do.

You pull on my lip like an aircraft emergency oxygen system.
Our engines catch fire
as our tongues flutter like the wing's peeling metal,
and as our eyes peek at one another
between each plane crash of lips.

We've lost cabin pressure
as we can no longer control our bodies.
We gasp for each other's breath
as our shimmering structures
roll around on the sky of my bed.

We kiss like we've only got seconds left,
when in reality,
these moments will never die
even if we do.

you used to love the taste of my name on your tongue,
until summer rolled around and your taste buds changed.
however,
my mouth still waters.

My voice and guitar echoed from
The wall of rain outside my
Window.

Wasps seek shelter like little
Refugees; pass my face and
Settle inside to

Dry little wings under roof.
I wave them only away from
My glass of wine.

All are welcome. Rain falls
Harder on the small.
Shelter and space.

Such easy
Things to
Share.  

Nothing unhuman
Could ever be a
Stranger.

Some people
Go through their entire lives
Not living
Breathing, yes
Surviving, yes
But not living
Not ever knowing the joys and sorrows
Of first loves
Not ever understanding the tragedy that comes
From a broken heart
Or the inexplicable amount of euphoria
That comes from listening to music
But not just listening to it
Feeling it course through their body
Like the blood in their veins
Some people
Go through their entire lives
Without feeling
And that
Is the tragedy of surviving