he's stand still,
teeth gritting, frozen and captivating
wishing you were as outstanding
the thoughts are thrilling
stone cold, lining the gums
numbing every thought and tooth
another quarter in the phone booth,
short of breath
never winning
he's watching every move you make
making you wish you could rewrite the storyline
but happy endings only happen in fairy tales
another glass slipper, a promising kiss of eternity
the cusp of where his cheekbone meets the tuck of his smile on the side of his face has me thinking how lines can meet and get lost, just like a poisoned Apple meets the lips of purity
Adam and Eve had problems, but even
children of God inhale sins and exhale reality
because he is beautiful and still,
but I will always be everlasting, exhausting the  feeling of empathy.
but I'm still trying to remember every line that combined his every ****** expression.
Stuck on his side profile like its the last sunset before dawn.
he's still again, he's capturing my creativity, I'm sketching his lips, I'm understanding the breaks in between his breaths and the tide,
my teeth become loose, salt seeps in every crack,
burying them beneath the nape of his jawline,
where the thoughts of him began and ended.
his jawline is sketched in my mind
in my mind,
in my mind

I caught a glimpse
I tasted heaven once or twice
but that's all it took for me to get hooked on the idea
the idea that I could feel that sunrise again
somber colors in my bones I can't wash it away
can't wash away the ashes that stain my withering skin either
even while the summer heat strangles my body
in ways I couldn't explain to you
not the way my chest is caving in
not my shattering rib cage
or my constricting veins
I still can't find that sunrise again
waiting all night for it to come
but once again it's never the same one
once again I'm left waiting in the dull sun
once again waiting
    waiting
waiting
to catch one more glimpse
before I'm gone

my social skills are painted by bubblegum lipstick and the ash of my lucky cigarette in a pack I found from a few weeks back
one more pill, one more line, another sip
another white lie, stale cigarette smoke filling up the back of my throat
buried in the depths of my backpack along with old makeup that makes me feel made up,
made up of small talk and old inside jokes
i thought would last longer then the last drag you took before you used it to finish the masterpiece you call a night out with people you think you need the most.
but they're just as made up as you.
made up just like the taste of that bubblegum flavor that lasts as long as the last drag.
as long as it takes to paint yourself into the crowd of the social scene.
the socialist you thought you could be under the lowlights and backlights where even darkest whites could've bloomed in the corner of that crowded room, where the lucky eventually ended, and the lights eventually dimmed, and the made up small talk fades into the faces you won't remember in the morning, along with the polished insecurities you learned to forget forgetting that you painted yourself to fit in.
fitted into that party that didn't even matter a few weeks back.

the street lights seep in the cracks of my car windows as you tell me things that you've been carrying on your shoulders all those years.
I'm in hailing the smoke of my cigarette and I can hear the birds in the trees above
starting their day as were ending ours
speeding cars and the fines we pay,
the fines you pay are one small price
we learnt to accept our time,
you let me in,
you let me see what hurts,
the cracks are the ones just like the ones in my car, where the light crawls through,
but so does the bad ****, too,
I saw a different side of you that night,
and I showed you parts of me that I don't share with anyone else,
you fell into the cracks of me,
and I am in love with you