too often i find myself
feeling like my head
is a balloon full of helium
tethering itself to my neck
by a ribbon curled with
an open pair of scissors

too often i find myself telling myself
that this isn’t a good way to feel,
that this is how it started last time,
that i should eat more food,
drink less coffee but more *****.

too often i taste him
underneath my fingernails and
wonder how long it will take
for my cuticles to forget him
and wonder when the nightmares
might give it a rest,
because i could use some sleep.

We order a mushroom-cheese omelet

Now see you’re the kind of guy who eats jam on toast
And I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t eat toast as all
So when the plate comes, I give you both pieces of toast
And you spread the strawberry jam on it
While I’m busy cutting the omelet in half
But before taking a bite of anything
We both pick up a hashbrown simultaneously
As if somehow we’d planned the entire thing
And we both take a bite of it and
We love it
It’s cooked to perfection and potatoes are my weakness
Back to the omlet though,
So I’m not that great at cutting
And the omelet cut unevenly in half
So you take the smaller piece
Even though you’re bigger than me
And I steal the bigger piece
Even though I’m smaller than you
And you eat your half in three bites
While I’m struggling with mine
And the string cheese is caught somewhere between
My fingers, my mouth and the plate
And it takes me a while to eat
About twenty bites in, there’s no way I can eat more
So I ask you to eat what’s leftover
I guess I should have given you the bigger half to begin with
But I guess that’s just how we work
Where you’ll always take the smaller portion
But end up eating most of the food
Because I’ll always take the bigger portion
And leave most of it untouched
You eat my leftovers in two bites
And the coffee arrives
I almost knock over your espresso
While reaching for the complimentary cookie
I eat my cookie
And then I eat half of yours too
And by this time I’m pretty full
But I see a sign for a free cookie
And I want it
You don’t really care for it but you laugh
Because you haven’t seen me want anything as bad
As the cookie (it's free!)
And so you get me the free cookie
And I’m too full to eat it
So I put it in my bag
Very proudly; it’s my success for the day
I finish my Americano faster than you finish your single shot espresso
So you give me a sip of yours
But you drop a few drops on me
And now my pants look like they have blood stains
And I smell of espresso
And you’re trying to clean it with a tissue
But the waiter thinks we’re doing something naughty
So I tell you to stop
And even if we were doing something naughty
Who’s the waiter to say anything anyways
Anyways
So we finish out coffee and we call for an uber
And my pants are stained
And I’m carrying my cookie
And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier
While we wait for the uber
You steal my glasses
And you try them on
They look funny on you
I like them on you
I think I like you
And you can’t see anything
And I can’t see anything either
Except for your outline
That’s enough for me
So the uber comes
And he calls us
And we’re leaving
At the counter you pay
And I see a Nutella cookie in the window
I want it
But you just paid for breakfast
So I’ll keep quiet
We sit in the car
And I put on pomegranate lipbalm
And I give you some too
Your lips look nice and soft now
And I think today has been a really great day
And I think you fit me well
Because you love toast and I leave toast
And it works out
(except for that baked tomato no one ate)
But look the point is
Is that we work
Well.
And we squish in the back of an uber
And guess what?
The seat was made for two.

We ordered a mushroom-cheese omelet
It was a good day

i.
moments are ephemeral
so i hold on tightly
to the closeness of you.
our arms linked together,
you keep bumping into me
and i keep colliding into
you.
it's as if we are stars,
and we make our own
little boom
in this sky.

we're almost a firework, honey.
we're almost-

ii.
hey.
long haired sweetheart,
golden boy of no where,
your halo is skewed,
but i bet you'd taste like lights.
you're the brightest
type of shine.
sure, you glow in the dark,
but you're glowing in the light too.
and they say,
you're brighter with me,
they say you are
just as smitten
as i am.

maybe we can make this work, honey.
maybe we can-

iii.
what if i was to paint you in indigo,
sew patches of
a blank night sky
onto your dimples,
and hang stars from your
butterfly lashes?
would you
let me sit on your lap like
it's a throne,
make me your
queen,
so that i can say i've made
the human form of night time
my lover.
king of hearts, conqueror of the day.

we hold on, because it heals our tired hurt, honey.
we hold on-