I lit a candle in midday
and watched how quickly
I'd forget about it

When your gaze shifts
and our eyes meet
I feel like a cookie crumble

He told me the palm of my hand
smells like cookie dough;
I was baked for you

I bet if animals could speak,
we wouldn't get along as much

How many times do I need to say
"there are some things better left unsaid"
before you finally understand?

Give up your muse
of mediocrity
Throw him to the wolves

Let him roast on the spit
of your whirring pen
laugh without mercy:

"You guided me to this place,
Miscreant
Now I'll show you where to go."

The ink stains your hands
You, Lady Macbeth,
but instead of washing

use it to tattoo
the truth
all over your face

it doesn't matter how friendly
or how affectionate
i may be with others

whether they're friends,
past crushes
or even past lovers

because my fingers
write sweet nothings
and my mouth might sing love songs

but for the past...
ever since that dream
it's been you all along

running through my mind
so much
i'm tempted to ask if your legs are tired.

did i just use a pickup line
in poetry,
one that's long since expired?

possibly, though i won't apologise.
i'm one of those old souls
always just a little behind;

but i don't mind being behind
if you're in front of me,
i'll enjoy the view

and no, that wasn't ******
i promise
i just enjoy looking at you