I keep my thoughts enclosed in my mahogany box brain and heart

I don't want to be alone but I can't be myself
My drink and a song are the only ones I can depend on

Late nights
Solo
You're sleeping
Probably snoring

I'm doing my best
Two weeks flown by
Cemeteries centered
Mind muffled and modified

Have I returned or missed my stop?

I take the shortest path imaginable to be among stars lining meticulously staked kiosks

beaming like the sun's gentle rays at dawn in autumn

mid-slumber, we float
skin colliding and causing ripples like pebbles in a stream

the noise he makes at 3 AM send a shock through my tattered and fragile skeleton

stopping short below my waist
where i start questioning my beauty because society hates an un-perfect anatomy
somehow that's your favorite place

early spring morning eyes that could sedate the wildest stallion

lips and teeth
so familiar

for minutes we've sat in silence with our limbs tangled

I've been waiting so long

the separate paths we crossed are conjoined at fingertips and hips

walk with me until the sun is barely peaking out

we're spilling out like whiskey on a hardwood floor

how are we still so full?

i've been watching you sleep
when the manifestos and proclamations of week days have become too heavy
slithering through me
i dream so much more beautiful
a block and half away from my own haven
streaks of red lipstick on my right hand
lullabies of your sleep talk

Coming off the unbearably sweet high of our Nation's proud capital.
I salute you.
For bright mornings with fruit smoothies made so masterfully.
Afternoons of stasis.
Of quick showers and quick words on a condensed second floor.
Straight intelligence and legitimate knowledge.
Stories of brothers pranking in Palestine.
"Can I have some?" asked so coyly when candy is available for adults.
Thick hookah smoke burning my lungs and sapphire blues eyes.
Old nicknames. Flying off the tongue like song lyrics we all know.
Unfamiliar places, and familiar places.
Habibi. As-salamu alaykum. Words my cerebrum forgot but heart did not.
"Do you want coffee?" "Come here." "Kiss me."
Your smile. Your home. Your hands. Your eyes.
Nostalgia over taking our souls like baby pictures.
I wish it could've lasted forever.
But nothing does.
And that's good, right?
Too much of a good thing makes us greedy.

I disappeared last week
fell madly in love with Washington D.C.
Kissed my high school sweet thing and went to a Zoo with him
His eyes and fingertips penetrating my psyche
Fat and ugly red eyes as I left my temporary Paradiso
It's good that love like that only exists in small doses.
I hope one day I can return to the land of Gods & Devils
where all I want is drink and a deep kiss
a line and  an inhale
a now or a never

how do I wish you happiness and good luck?
I kissed a boy with his nose pierced and a native american tattoo on his arm.
why haven't I been worth fighting for and revisiting?
you just vanished and it hurt more than getting stabbed.