I loved
how we sat in the car and tried to talk
but couldn't find words.
We lay in bed
and became familiar with each other.
I loved how your  breath felt in my hair
and you whispered into the back of my head.
Your skin so soft
expansive.

God, I wish this was every night.

i think
why we lust after things
is to make us feel beautiful.
i think
the people who look
at pretty things
and get a tingle in their spines
and a shimmer in their eyes
long so badly
ache so achingly
to be a part of the richness of the world
held for the elite, the cream on top of the milk.

i want more than anything
to be beautiful
and a part of something.

i think i want the world.

There are no words to describe your special kind of ****.

I just want to hold you
while its raining outside on the bay windows
          notice the little droplets like diamonds.
I want to bury myself in your shirts that smell of you
          cigarettes and salty foods
Your shirts always soft I want to melt into them.
Our arms wrapped around each others
our legs intertwined under a blanket
is what I miss the most.

sinking

the tile is cold
on my feet
shaped like moons with holes
everythingisspinning
my hands are bleeding to the rhythm of my heart
I am slurping the coffee cold
And eating kiwis
I plan on starving here.

I don’t know how much more I can take
and I’ve been thinking
if this is how poets feel before they lose it
before they open the bottle
and gulp down the sour whiskey to numb the pain of living.
I want a smoke to **** my lungs first before
I **** my heart.

The windows are open
its a hot summer night.
And I fear my thoughts will tumble
out and down
                     down
                           down
onto the patio.

Why did God create hearts if they get pierced
like an egg yolk?
Didn't he consider us
we starving, weak humans?
I learned in Catholic school
God doesn't have time for anyone
unless you are dying.

I think I might be.