A silent conversation where everything is felt and known
in the soft quite space between our eyes
and nothing but slow rhythmic breath passes from our lips
and we don't have to force a smile
and just enjoy the silence wrapped around us
and the noise of nothing tying us together
in a locked gaze free to be ourselves
without the judgment of sound
and happy enough with being bored of being
and still brave enough to poke around
and dare to be a little more than just be
and finding a connection in knowing
together we are still alone
but there is no need of feeling lonely
because all we ever wanted was someone
that understands they don't have to understand
every little thing that isn't said
because there is often a deeper story in the pauses
between each sound and syllable
and each sigh and moan
and sometimes it is better to just lay there
in the comfort found outside the reach of our skin
and listen to the meaning of why
our hearts are beating beneath our bones
in the silent conversation
where everything is felt and known

A tired hug early in the morning,
drowsy and uncoordinated,
but starts the day nicely.
Like a cup of tea,
mellow and lovely.

A wet hug,
filled with tears, tears, and more tears.
A comforting embrace
that no one wants to let go of
or experience again.

A happy hug,
one that happens out of joy
for something or another.
Like a lemon drop,
sweet and filled with innocent happiness.

A desperate hug,
the kind when the world is falling apart
and the only thing you have is each other.
Arms wrapped tightly,
a hug in circumstances no one wants.

A hug that isn't desperate, but still needed.
Those that you never want to leave,
that say the words you can't.
The ones you hold on to,
that you bury your head into.

A goodbye hug.
The worst kind.
Filled with regrets, words never said.
As agonizing as they are,
there is no worse thing than
not being able to give one.

you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.

i. the curly, green-haired
leo with the cry-baby tattoo
on her left calf; fish net stockings and
loud guitar playing and
menthol cigarettes. driving through
the park at 9 pm, ***** shots,
the white house with the a-frame roof,
hugs that made your heart feel as warm
as she did

crying as i left my room again to be
intertwined with a girl who did not love me, but i wanted to;
months pass, lonely car rides with
one-sided conversations and
seven years gone,
quiet disconnection
that made you feel as cold
as i did

ii. brown eyes, brown skin,
round glasses and chicago streetlights.
holding each other close on the subway
lakehouse parties in the beginning of spring and
pisces season and tarot readings and
soft kisses on the train.
holding hands at the aquarium,
sweet poetry and calm and
a sense of oneness that made you feel
important

hurt for the third time
a panic, a loss
i held their heart in my hands and
let it fall
harsh
unimportant
i still carry the guilt on my fingertips

iii. short hair. freckled cheeks, i
fell in love with the way the skin
crinkled around her eyes when she smiled.
an apartment, a home built
around our lips touching
wrapped in blankets on the couch,
dense smoke and her hand on my leg while she
drove. chinese food and
waking up against her chest and
laughing so hard
my ribs hurt

crashing. her anger withering away my
heartstrings; pain and
crying alone in the bathtub
moving away
drunk tears on the interstate
punching my thighs
in place of the way her
words made
me hurt

i can’t write about what it feels like
to run my fingers through your hair
or feel your hands on my skin
(no matter how much i want to)
i can’t speak to the softness of your lips
or what it sounds like
when you whisper my name
(no matter how much i want to)
i don’t know what the skin on your hips
feels like after you’ve showered
or what it’s like to wake up
to your breath on my shoulder
(no matter how much i want to)
i can’t write about the feeling
of our skin
soft and rough
holding hands
(oh god, i want to)
i can’t write about you
in anything other than the abstract
no
matter
how
much
i
want
to

I promise you
Forever I'll always love
You never forget my
Utter love for you sweetheart
So forever I'll always be loving
You remember never cry
When I'm gone my love
Forever together always in true
Love my sweetheart.