i've lined his sheets with
"tell me more"
"please don't go"
"lock the door"
and "pull me closer"

we've sewn
phrases, unintelligible noises, and whispers
into the mattress
one great cross-stitch
spread across the box spring

he's etched my skin with
"take your time"
"can i stay?"
"that doesn't rhyme"
and November Gray

we've read
excerpts, classics, and unfinished plots
among the sheets
words: a vehicle
to take us anywhere

i'm five years younger in his presence
all tenderness and muffled sound
ten feet taller standing near him
pure confidence and mischief

he's adrenaline
a therapeutic freefall
pure heroine

i'm romantic and hopeless
a breezy summer evening
a soft caress

squawks in air ducts
***** and rustled wings
talons on rafters
screams of shock
a basement door locked
music playing
to inject ignorance

tiptoe around
be gentle with me
abnormal sound:
whispering unforcefully

handle with care
only skin and bones
percieved snare
is merely tender prone

**** me softly -
fingertip caress
turning fondly
to your saintly silhouette

she holds my hand,
and whispers at my reflection,
then hollows out
my insides

hands shaking.
woke up
jilted

mind drifting.
dreaming about
you

trouble separating
rem from
reality

he's beckoning
for gentle
touches

yet im filtering
your entirety

straining
your existence

out of
dream-state

asking myself
for the source
of infliction

finding it
in an
expression

these days i am
in-between

not a student
yet not a teacher
waiting on a call
an interview
anything

not a lover
yet not a stranger
searching for a friend
a hand to hold
anything

not a tenant
yet not homeless
looking for a flat
a home
anything

all i am
is lukewarm