i’m in love with strangers i pass by
because ignorance is comforting

i stopped writing about you not because i forgot about you,
but because the mere thought of you makes my hands explode, shake, gnaw,
pick at all the skin you whispered to me was
beautiful
the mere thought of you sends my heart into a slow melt,
you make it feel like july on the inside
where you’re hot and sweaty and far too close to one another
i can’t write about you anymore because the fragile thoughts in my head
would be destroyed by the heavy weight of your influence

I've been breathing in everything I hate
Such as the smoke from fire that bellows beneath my feet,
It burns and it scalds and yet,
I do not learn my lesson.
My lungs have become airbags- deflated, charred
It hurts me to breathe but yet,
I do not learn my lesson.

I have been shown the sweet smells from the valley,
The honeysuckle kisses against my dried lips
But nectar is far more vicious than tar.
For it sticks to you like a bad memory
It will coat you in a sweet sickness,
A birth from a joyous hospital room
Honeysuckle kisses upon dry lips,
While they pump you full of the tar.

So while my lungs cannot heave anymore,
And my organs coated with depression
The nectar does nothing but upset my stomach
It causes it to wretch like a screaming baby
Lack of honeysuckle kisses fuels the fire.
I will continue to burn and scald my feet-
But I will not succumb to the iridescence
That will one day leave you sick,
And sticky sweet.

van gogh ate his yellow paint
because he even he wanted to coat his organs,
himself, in sunshine,
instead of feeling the darkness

the one thing i miss most about love
is having someone who loves the way you breathe
the simplest kind of love
where your air flows within me
the love that speaks volumes with a single glance
i miss love because i miss the way it feels to have hands through my hair
i miss the heartbeats you have
one for one another