we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

Lights off,
So that I’ll be blind and think that you’re here with me under the sheets
I hope you’re the one kissing my lips
And whispering “i love you” to my ears

you only wanted me when it was just convenient for you,
why did this cold weather make me feel so much warmer then you ever did