i can't remember
what it's like to sleep in sheets
that don't smell like you

the day we went to the aquarium
was the day i decided to let myself fall
in love with you, and by 11:54 that
night i was practically suffocating
under the weight of words i did not
know how to say, so i simply took your
hands in mine and hoped that you
could read between the songs that i
whispered as you fell asleep.

we aren't much older
now, but wiser nonetheless,
and i have figured it out

Don’t breathe deeply.
It’s exhausting.
Trust me, I’ve tried.
I think a lot about
how much strength trees have,
and if they have any extra
I can borrow.
I think a lot about
how if I don’t go to sleep,
I won’t have to wake up tomorrow.

I cut myself on the future
I thought of kissing your picture
I detached myself from
lullabies and sorry eyes
only to realize:

I want to make love to you in November,
just before the empty of December.
Where snow blankets
and suffocating leaf-beds
aren't the only dreams
to fall asleep in our heads.

I could hear your voice trip
as my hands started to drip
around your hips and thighs-
You could tranquilize
with your lips and byes.

You look so sleepy-headed
Many words I have threaded
to weave a dream
desperately
but you prefer my
reality.

Writer’s block does not exist,
there’s only uncreative writers,
and those who don’t care enough
to care so much.
As the former,
I will write this in my quietest voice:
I am okay,
I am okay,
I am okay.
Few would care to know,
fewer would care if they knew.
But it is the truth,
and I am in no business
of making truths I cannot keep.
I no longer write with tired eyes.
I no longer think with shaking hands.
I am no longer transparent,
or translucent,
or opaque.
I am okay.
I know this because I woke up today.
Simply that.
I woke up today,
and I am not empty.