his videogames rest on my desk / snuggled under my belongings / his things fit perfectly amongst mine / like the way our fingers lace together under the chilly autumn stars.

you make lists in your head / about what you want in a lover, like
brown hair and a sweet voice / a sharp minds and soft heart, a sense of humour that actually makes you laugh
this and that.

it's all *******

because people are not and can not be lists / I've always wanted to be the person who made someone realize this / I want to come across someone with a list in their head this is nothing like what I am, and I want to show them / what they didn't even know they wanted and what they were looking for.

Nobody knows what they're looking for, and if they say they do,
they're only fooling themselves / Wwe don't know what we want / until it's right in front of us.

I could light a fire
to the things
I've grown tired of and leave,
of no commitment,
regret,
nor need.

I know I am / the thick smoke rolling off fires / but treat me like / the purest substance / to have ever entered your lungs

tell me about / the quicksand in your shoes / and how even now / you have troubles standing when you see me smile

One day we'll meet
when autumn's fire burns red with
the trees
and pavements brunch with
frosted leaf.
My anxious hands,
too hot, will find yours
and then I know we'll be okay

- T.W