im drifting in and out
floating around
this body does not belong to me

the clench of my hands
physical touch
its all so distant
this body does not contain me

my vision blurs
voices fade
this body is not helping me

the clothes i put on
hats i wear
the glasses that rest on my nose
this body does not represent me

staring in mirrors
clawing at skin
this body will be the death of me

The sky, last night as if fell asleep, was the wrong color
i know whats just how light pollution goes
But still i just huddled in my sheets
unsteady breathing
today the sky is silver grey
and the birds are singing their winter songs
I always wonder how the key is never wrong
they are always in harmony.

our love is,
dreary morning eyes
& the sun peeking through
mouths that still reek of dreams,
& smiles that soothe

our love is foggy windows
& sweaty bodies
the scent of your skin
& the scent of mine
nights that slip away
& the star above that shines

our love is smooth words
& voices still tainted by sleep
faces painted with smiles
& kisses that make you weak

our love is the position only
our bodies know
the entire continent of us
a map connecting fate
pure feeling
& a vulnerability that feels safe

our love is watching 80s music videos in bed
entangled & innate
laughing just because
it is something to appreciate

our love is adventure-filled days
& treasured memories to keep
a feeling deep within
as our hearts take a leap

our love is a method of praise
your presence like heaven
lost in a blissful daze
i wonder, all of my life, where have you been?

Humans are stardust.
Nothing more
Nothing less.
We, being stardust, are also energy.
So we cannot be created
Nor destroyed.
Only reborn, constantly.

And I think there's something
Just lovely about that.

I think the reason some of us like the smell of gasoline,
Or the smell of a charred grill,
Or just things burning,
Is because that's what they say space smells like.
And think those few of us
Who enjoy the smell of gasoline,
Charred grills,
And burning things,
Are those of us who somewhat remember
Being nothing more, and nothing less, than a star.

And I think the only people who can remember being stardust
Are the newest and oldest of souls.
Because they're the ones closest to both
The beginning
And the end.

And, while I know it hurts to remember
Things you cannot fathom,
I think there's something beautiful--
Strangely beautiful.
Obscurely beautiful,
In having lived so many lives
Yet still remembering when you were the very first you.

Humans are stardust.
Nothing more,
Nothing less.
We, being stardust, are also energy.
So we cannot be created
Nor destroyed.
Only reborn, constantly.

And I think there's something
Just lovely about that.

My mother was never a swimmer,
she signed me up for lessons when I was nine
so I would never drown.
That summer, I did learn how to swim,
but no one prepared me for the sinking that would come
10 Augusts' later.
I can smell the whiskey on your breath
as you touch my cigarette mouth.
I've never missed anything as much
as your hands meeting every crevice of
my body during those winter nights
in your twin sized bed.
Half-clothed, pressed against each others bodies,
holding each other like the last life jacket on the Titanic,
we decide we'll never see stars like this back home.
Seaweed entangles our feet
and I throw mine up around your waist,
because I need you so much closer.
Forget Death Cab.
Transatlanticism is real but
I don't need you to be across the ocean to know
the distance between us stretches for miles,
though I'm staring at your apologetic eyes in front of me.
I fought to stay afloat that summer,
reminding my limbs the motions of the backstroke,
the butterfly.
But with one glance, you had me at the bottom of the deep end.