Im sorry that i keep writing you into poetry like you weren't already impossible enough. Love shouldn't feel like walking on glass. Arrange all my pieces into a stained glass window. I want you to fall in love with my colors. Go ahead hang me up with the same pictures your mother loved, I'm looking for home. Im sorry that i thought i found it in your eyes but i have a habit of falling asleep there every night. Next time i will reserve 3am for sleeping. if your heart feels like an inn, i suggest you buy a smaller house. Its all uphill from here. This attic doesn't carry bits of you in its closets. Im learning how to close doors. My lungs have become dusty from not saying your name. At night i breathe in constellations and share secrets between the sheets in my own mind so these days your name rarely gets caught in my mouth. Heres to finally letting go and seeing the sunlight. This is the first day i haven't woken up and checked my skin for your presence. People like you get caught in veins. Im sticking you to poetry, Im hoping one day, this is the only place you'll stay.