sometimes it feels like it's not getting cold fast enough
other times i'm terrified of being shut in away from frigid air
god
i hope this year is different
with less days spent entirely in bed
forcing myself to sleep on mascara stained pillows
oh
how belittling it was
wasting away on a beer stained matress
i'm completely transparent to my house mate
you tried not to look at me because he knows it will make him crumble
where did the time ago?
it feels like i've been stuck on a swing set for 365 days without stopping

I felt you in my bones
Strolling home
An instant of nostalgia and euphoria
I saw the Galaxy in your spine
The seasons are changing
Your cold gaze feels like autumn wind
Golden warmth of limbs draping
Smoke and tahini
We've lost ourselves
It's a good thing.

I like to think about you ironically now
how you wish your name would be whispered on a humid summer night
Your vocabulary no longer exists on my tongue
You've become so foreign that you feel like an out-dated movie

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