I tend to be very hard
on myself
when it comes to
making mistakes
and picking out
flaws
and old scars
because it’s easier
to self-inflict pain
so it doesn’t hurt
as much
when people
that matter
do it, too.

I woke up ******* on the moon.
Ear to sand,
All the ocean sang was him.
Like art,
Not meant for beauty,
Only tears.

Darling I want you

Sweet, sticky, hot, and heavy

Honey in my heart

In the end they're just men; they're not the products of a Disney dreamer's imagination.

And I'm a three-beer girl with tattoos, trust issues, and a heart of gold.

When you wake up in the morning
And there's a note on your mug
"I didn't want to wake you"
"I left your favorite donuts on the table"
"When you sleep you make little sobbing sounds"
(And I think that's cute) is implied
To no longer be your own
To be stealing his deodorant
Because you miss his smell at work
And kitchen smells are not musician smells
And guitar strings are not
Your body
But they might as well be
Because you feel
Every
Tiny
Note
He plays
You would gladly do his laundry
For another song to fall asleep too
Many ways he kisses you
Too many places to count the stars
Too many phantom vibrations
And you think your phone is ringing
Because he just wants to talk about your day
You lose it for a minute
But it's nothing
It's the wind blowing
It's just missing someone
And you're terrified you've forgotten
The shadows his nose casts and
The dilations of his eyes
And the shapes of his words
As they meet your ears
But you look up at the moon
How it waxes
It wanes
Your love goes through phases
That bring in the tides
And wash lost shark's teeth out to sea
Your love changes daily
Loving him is often scary
You are perpetually quaking
Remembering how quickly
Sweet things dissolve in the rain
Sugar wastes enamel
Like time wastes muscle
You could fit a camel through the eye of a needle
Easier than you can handle this
Than you can wrap your head around
Caliente
Having no control
Because you cut the reins
You wanted it that way
And you forgot that fear
Taste like red wine and stale saltines
And being out of ice cream
You wanted it that way
You wanted a love story
You wanted to know that there's no such thing as control anyways
No such thing as
An autonomous heart
And you are ******
Because you could draw the shadows his nose casts
The squeeze of his ***
The way his eyes fluoresce at the sight of you
From memory
You are ****** because he is all you can think about
Past, present, future
I mean, you are seriously ******

There is a hook of another woman’s perfume
hanging from your neck, trailing behind you
like a carcass dragging. It smells of flood
and I am keeping myself from drowning
in her.

I have counted the chairs in your room,
the wrinkles in your sheets and there are extras
for every time she rolled over to ask you
who I was.

Did you tell her?

For anyone else, there would be chances
handed out for every second glance, every
dial tone. For you, there are only choices,
sour and tired from being given away.

Chances and I
have that in common.

I always ask her why, cause you gotta pay to play.
So don't fall in love with me, unless you got more than one
Reason.

And there is no do-overs allowed, no repeats,
And that's why loving a poet is or can be a
Huge pain in the ***.