it feels like a classic cliche
walking hand in hand through arteries
when you are gone, so is half of me
everyone should find someone who let's them say anything
With you, I am a bleeding heart ready to place myself in the palm of your hand for a tiny squeeze of life before tucking back into my rib cage
And it is not too much or dependence
And this is the love I've always wanted

I can be an idiot,
Quick with emotion letting it trickle out of my mouth before i can think of how it might make you feel
Tonight I don't feel much and I don't know how to tell you it's not your fault
I think a lot and my chest has been hurting and sometimes I can't help but think you might be better off

[PRESS PLAY]

there is no light in this
place where i reside.
my eyes go black and
there
         is
    only
            condemnation.

can you imagine being devoid?
a soul like nothingness.

what allows you to imagine?
what allows you to wonder?

[PRESS REWIND]

once i had felt the light.
once i was the light.
now i am lost, eyeless.
if only i could unsee.
if only i could unspeak.

what to do when such
secrets blind you, silence you.

[FORWARD TO THE FALL]

i thought i was sunlight.
i thought i was kind.
now i understand
         i understand.

nothing can be undone.
it can only be remade.

it's snowing in april and
the bluejays have abandoned their nest to
welcome the newcoming of spring;
we have no furniture, sweetheart,
but we do have time. last night i
held your cheek in my tiny palm and
asked if you wanted me to rest
in your arms forever -
"of course", you soothed,
and i brewed cherry coffee in the morningtime
to remind myself
that this life is good.
we have no money, sweetheart,
but we do have time. we do have time.

She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze

my ***** heart is hungover
overdue for a kickstart
startled and *******
all for you,
all for you.

full stomach, aching chest
i try again to push my fingers through the screen of my phone
(i just want to brush my fingertips against yours while we call)
i am full of desire
for conflict = love vs. lust, joy vs. death
meaning
i'm not quite sure what i want some nights,
but i always want to be next to you

love poems make me nauseous sometimes, looking back at all the past ones i wrote thinking the feeling might last
but naively, perhaps, i'll say that you feel very different  
i'm not afraid either way...
(okay. afraid of losing you, too)