The table we bought is too big,
My eyes adjust to the dark too quick,
My brassiere is too tight,
My heart is too big.
The week is too long,
The homeless are too lonely and so am I

Empty empty empty I feel bad.

But I kissed her.
No, I kissed her too much.

Empty empty empty I feel bad.

Forgive me, me? Not for kissing her or anything like that. But for...this. Because the table we bought is too big, I burned my bra long ago and the homeless ask for things you can't give.

November:
Stop screaming forever, like I'm some storm you're going to weather, you're the one who's tethered and I'm just trying to get my life together.

February:
Now I'm screaming forever and wearing your words like a ******* sweater, I can read you like a letter and you want me too.

April:
We're screaming like we're deaf, but we're not. I've got the hots. We're flashing the lights like we're blind but somehow we don't mind. I'm a wet mess all the time.

July:
Just touch me and you'll see,
That your fingertips were made for me,
And then you'll drink me up like gin on that famous Eve.
Because I think we're done screaming,
I think you'll start dreaming,
I think we'll forget how to lie,
I think you're my Christmas in July.

Do you ever feel like you're made of paper?
I don't.
I'm made of flesh and bone and rocks and stones.
The flesh and bone I was born with.
The rocks and stones came later,
You know, they came with the haters.

Do you ever feel like you're made of lead?
Heavy and falling and poison and dead?
I don't.
I'm made of blood and water and thread,
The blood and water my birth-right,
The thread to keep me warm, back full of stiches,
You know, from the *******.

Half the time,
Half the heart it took,
Double the time and hiding beneath the cloth of the breakfast nook,
Lay fast asleep the death of dreams,
That would awaken when,
Her satisfaction,
Was just a fraction,
Her inaction,
Was his redaction and their attraction,
Wasn't gaining traction but rather losing the bet.

Is it selfish to chase your dreams once you've pushed humans out of your seams?

...They had gone for drinks. Then dancing. Then kissing. Then that night as he lay on her brothers spare couch, too drunk to drive, she kissed him goodnight. He wanted more and she wanted nothing more than to have it.
...
Two days later they were in a sweet little tent of sheets. Two days after that they were there again. And again for a week. She swore the air was foggy, the way his big hands and even bigger arms made her feel was like something out of her deepest longings. They took off each others glasses and looked into each others blurry eyes, her hair was curling in that wet air, her cheeks were red and he was falling quickly down her caverns. He kissed her face until the sun came up and then willed it to go back down. But she had other things to do.

Eugene had schemes and dreams for Davina, he wanted to take her far away and make her happy. He could too and she knew it. Terrified, she ran away swift and quick. She was in such danger of being content with the heart of someone else. He barely saw her go.

The air wasn't wet anymore, her waist was lonely without his fingerprints. But her eyes were dry and strong her thighs.

She burned the cabin down, left him with her lavender lace and took back her blurry eyes.

On the tip of my tongue you burned like hot coffee,
With a hit of my blunt you’ve undone my lofty,
made me a softy,
I wont forget.

Denim jacket leaning down, you’ve got room in your throat,
You’ve got words in your coat,
Pockets full of notes.

Ink on your arms that wrap, wrap around me,
Words pushing on your teeth like braces,
Laces,
Up your shoes that walk all around me,
I won't forget.

Maybe whisper it now or tell me tomorrow.

Denim jacket leaning down, tippy toes to kiss your nose.
You’ve made me a softy,
I won’t forget.

Sweet and simply say it from behind those curtains,
Smoke in your nose from my fire lungs,
Stain my breath with your words,
Blessed syllables,
I won’t forget.