Sometimes I feel this tugging at my heart.

It's weird cause I haven't felt anything in a while.

I hate that tugging.

I know it's trying to revive itself,

but I don't want it to.

Whenever I come across a memory

It jumps,

as if its trying to say

"Remember? Remember?"

I lie and tell it

"No, now shut up."

It's just better if it remains silent.

Of course it doesn't get that

Nope there it is

Jumping.

Tugging.

Can't you see I am lifeless?

Of course not

the heart doesn't have eyes

Unfortunately.

he wants me to give him what I write
that's not quite what he is asking for
however

he wants me to give him what I write about him
he wants me to write about him
it is him that he wants me to ***** and assign meaning to

it is unfortunate
because he no longer excites

instead he would find lines about you
who sat in this chair
this time yesterday

I would write for you
I would give you my work
but only because you would not ask
only because you do not want it

-One case of ******* in too much water and air at the same time
-2 dashes of cold loneliness on the bitterest winter eve where the candles freeze over
-5 tablespoons of the ripest peach on that July day in Georgia where the skies were golden and the juice just oozed and cracked out the fuzz
-1/2 cup of collapsing into soft sheets of a bed already nice and made, presented well as you sink into the goose feathered pillows
-A dozen moments of standing at the edge of highest tower on your tip toes, as your stomach drops from the fear of falling
-4 really good sessions of laughing where you feel as if you will never breathe again, for that is the best kind of laughter and the ripest.
-A pinch of the sweetest bird calls in the world where you cannot help to sing along, just for good measure.
-1 huge smile, the type where you cannot stop it, it is such a gorgeous smile in all its hugeness

Toss into a pan and stir until everything combines creating a deliciously bitter concoction and throw into the oven forever and never let cool.
And that is the perfect recipe for falling in love.

It's not too cold of a night for a walk
Even if this one was not by choice
I'm not sorry for being so drunk
I only ever wanted to hear your sweet voice

Even if the only words it told me were,
"*******!"
Sometimes it's the little things that mean so much

Your spirits weren't as bright as I remember
I suppose my own had something to do with that
I'm not sorry for losing your number
Just kind of sorry that you won't give it back

But I'm never sorry for the things that I do
I just wanted to see how things were working out
Sometimes I really do worry about you
You said that I'm the one I should be worried about

Your hair color has changed
Your pajamas said "Somebody Loves Me"
That might be true in more than one way
More ways than you seem to need

I tried my best not to look back
But I know you stood in the doorway as I walked off
Sometimes it's the little things that mean so much
Sometimes a walk in the cold is enough

Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.

We're a little hiding
in our heads.
All of us.