with yours words still fresh of say
could you have leaned in with something new?
or can you tuck it all away
and continue helping me undo

your words were once threshed to stay
for me to lean and cite to you
and what we've heard
is caressed in clay
pleading and breeding, dripping in hue

the fades are falling from the outside
repeating and bleeding through
with our words dressed up in shame
im feeling and reeling, being pulled into two

i put my
cup to my mouth
thinking
it
was
my cigarette

i
breathed it in
and when i
realized
it
was
not

my lungs filled with
everything else
and
i
drowned
to
the bottom
of
where
i
first
saw
you

every Fall i get lost at least 1,000 times.
the cold breeze pushes me past wholesome, usually landing me in a spot i'd know only in a past life.

if it were real i'd remember,
because i remember everything.
whether its getting wrapped up in your dark hair, or getting wrapped up in the way your dark hair makes me feel.

i've been too selfish for rationality or reason, and to be honest, i'll see Fall 100 more times before that changes.
but a person like me will get high off of the nostalgia in the air before i notice anything burning.

dead leaves fall from trees marked with growing pains this time of year.
between past occasions and now, everything is too relevant for me to think of.

if i were ever dead like you,
i'd feel less at home.
and if you were ever dead like me,
i'd feel like i never had one at all.

never in a thousand lifetimes
could i scrape the well of reason
and fill my bucket with enough fragments of will
to testify to you
all of the things that have happened inside of me
since ive heard you speak my name
since ive felt your embrace on my identity
since ive crawled across you depth and vibrations

the same vibration that rattled the marrow free from my bones
and my soul free from the candle's wick

the night has been torn into paragraphs
that we utter like a million vows
that substantiate sanction
and quarrel with the absence of everything i've known

it isn't until a page is polluted by words and pictures that it is found captivating and inspiring
yet when i find an empty yet infinite sky resting overhead i cant help but marvel and feel joy wash against the walls of my heart
like a storm cleansing me of all that doesnt belong

and when its done, the clouds will fade away and i too will be much like the beautiful sky that i have such a love for

at one point i threw myself into a puddle of negligence and reveled in the sickingly delightful pleasures of self indulgence and cynicism

i knew no moderation and i knew no god, and without a hint of balance i nonchalantly stumbled across a tightrope that was threaded with desire and desperation

beyond the point of no return i realized the scars i bore were testaments of ******* that cried crimson tears of a faith long contorted

i needed a catalyst, and i fell from the tightrope in a similar way i fell from grace

all of the time i spent moving backwards sent the hands of the clock in a frenzy, and the last i remember they had moved backwards infinitely more than i ever could

i didnt know regret, and i didnt know how to appreciate something so hopeless until i choked on the darkest smoke you could blow in my face.

my eyes watered because i was gagging, but you shed waterfalls because the maps i gave you were too stained by things like a desire for honesty and desperation for something like a tender touch.

i led you astray, and had you of fallen off of the side of the world i probably would've wondered why instead of noticing that the mirror i stood in front of reflected nothing but a void.

day after day i say "maybe tonight"..

after all, two wrongs were never too wrong to make it right.

it might be okay.
even if im not doing as well as they say.

but then again, what the hell do others know?
i've made a prison of this vessel, suffering more and more from something i could care less to show.