When you laid in my bed, you were a landscape painting, and I had filthy hands. When you sat, ******* and upright at my kitchen table, you were a storm and I had nothing solid to hold onto. Everything else in between is a blur, and I am grabbing whatever I can from the Styx swirling around my synapses. In the end I am holding onto what feels like broken glass and I am trying to describe this in a way that will lure you back under my floorboards until you seep through and catch me by surprise like a flash flood. Everything about you stings like saltwater and everything about me bends for you like light and I am so covered in wounds and you are so covered in shadows. When you lay in my bed and sigh like God; when you peel an orange in a way that makes my heart feel all your tearing and pulling, I can stutter for up to six hundred ninety one thousand two hundred seconds. Eight days pass and my lips slowly learn to speak again.

when people ask me if we like eachother
I reply back and say
"no we're just friends"
but I tend to think different because the other night:
when you were drunk,
you told me how you thought my laugh was perfect
and that whenever I do
it makes you smile
and how my smile lights up any room I walk into
when you were drunk,
you told me how you loved my eyes
and how they change from brown to green
you got mad at your friend who tried talking to me
and kept saying to him
"No she's mine"
People say that the truth comes out when you're drunk
I just wish you could say these things sober.
Whenever I bring up another boy,
you pretend like you don't care
but I can tell by the way your tone changes
and how you look at me like I've said the worst possible thing I could.
I don't think you realize
that if you said you wanted to be with me
I would drop anyone for you
but then I remember
"we're just friends"

she had eyes that could drown a man
eyes beautiful
and sad
burnt from staring at the stars
for too long

they couldn't look away
the ones that followed her
into the deepest depths
of all the shallow seas

she had lips that were red
and full
leaving them mesmerized
by the begging
that they presumed
weighed down her softly
spoken words

they would open the dictionary
of their mother-tongue
to see what she had to say
and it made her sad
and beautiful
at the same time

We.
In a table together
choked with warm colors
of our skin.
Suspended by the music
my breaths
and your prayers.
Hostages of our desires.
Trapped by life.

Sometimes I keep my eyes open when we kiss
and you say it’s odd

I'm just trying to memorize the way the back of your eyelids look
until I can see deep shades of pink and blue in my sleep

A week ago you ate in front of me for the first time
And just yesterday you showed me the open hole in your stomach

It was only a picture of course
I have yet to see you fully unclothed and that is okay

I told the sadness I loved it again tonight
but it didn’t say it back this time

288

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!

My dear, im afraid I can no longer look at you as a human.
I see every entry ive written about you for months.
Ive uncovered every inch of you.
This is certainly a tragedy.