4:38 am
And I am thinking about you constantly.
Trying to make you the last thing that crosses my mind.
So that I can hope for any sleep tonight.
The only way I ever sleep these days,
Is in the nape of your neck with your hair like cherry blossom trees,
Dangling over me
It’s wishful thinking I suppose,
To dream of you fighting my woes.
Truth be told, you’re so much more
Like a partner, a friend, a love, my amour

My amour,
You have not yet begun to see your beauty blossom.
I am waiting for the day when you realize you will not fall into ash and your skin will not burn like cigarette paper.
But you will shine like June sunrise with soft heat and white light.
You will glimmer in the wake of destruction,
when everything around you is falling apart.
My amour,
You have not felt your own strength
In passion and love
But I am here
Let me show you

If you're a good writer
I've probably already fallen
in love with your words
if you make good music
you most likely own
a part of my soul
undoubtedly
if when you message me
you use proper grammer
punctuation
and complete sentences
there's no denying
I take you seriously
something in the way you word things
the way that each consonant sings
as I breathe in the simple things
you say to me

Brittle teeth
Bite hard
But will always
Bend and break

I'm kind of drunk again.
But I can still hear you laughing
That same thoughtful laugh.
I can still hear you playing music way too loud
As you curse our neighbors for being those old boring people we swore we'd never be,
I'm kind of drunk again,
The kind of drunk we used to get when we were way to young
And to proud to drink anything besides *****
That same old, cheap ***** that I still drink
From time to time
To remember the way we danced atop my bed
And cursed the morning sunrise
I may be kind of drunk again.
But it will never fully bring back
The people that we were
Or what we thought we were
It will never bring back the feeling
Of being drunk at 2 am
Ringing the doorbells of the men we loved.
I'm just kind of drunk again,
Thinking about you always.

Remember, my dear,
Even the sunshine will return to its darkness

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.