my mouth of fable could collide with yours-
myth, fairytale, and folklore.
what am i even reading you for?
tales are caught on your tongue with no spoilers.

and we could never be found,
or we could be bound
for happily ever after.
i really prefer the latter.

just don’t hesitate
because it’s wrong to wait
for saving.
please don’t hesitate
because the devil’s bait
is in waiting.

with my eyes of disguises, i could be your muse,
in different shades of greens and blues.
painted on the canvas ’til your amused.
until the images on my tongue are all gone and used.

and we could sit still and cry,
or dance because i wouldn’t mind.
i’m dreaming of whatever
it means to be together.

just don’t hesitate
because it’s wrong to wait
for saving.
please don’t hesitate
because the devil’s bait
is in waiting.

i’m stacking metaphors and similes
not telling you, because if you see
that i’m close to breaking
and my soul’s rearranging
into comets and galaxies
you might just leave me.
so i tell my self to wake up
that i can’t speed the pace up.
i can only hope you won’t forget me
because i could love you if you’d let me.

and we could cuddle kiss,
stare at the sky, sharing a wish.
you ask me what’s the matter
i smile saying it doesn’t matter.

just don’t hesitate
because it’s wrong to wait
for saving.
please don’t hesitate
because the devil’s bait
is in waiting.

a love turns old and the season is autumn
under silver buttons, laughing, lying to
me.
there is no one left to reach
take pictures when i turn into a deer
take a picture of
me
in my underwear and
flowers growing
everywhere
then, it began to rain.

don't bruise my mind with your
spat out slurs that fall
to my feet
with
a thunk.

don't fill my pretty little head
with insanity-notions
and those lies
that
are pernicious.

don't tell me i am prettier
when i am angry;

you want me
when i am angry;

you'd **** me
when i am angry.

don't.
don't.
don't.
don't
say you love(d) me.

past or present tense
the lie is still tensing

the backbone
you say i don't have.

don't look at me.

*your eyes aren't the only thing i won't miss on my body.

we can go wherever we want
we can even go to
montana
because we can't live here anymore
all the boys are talking to her,
they're drowning in blue and talking to her
it is hard to understand
in a similar way it is hard to understand
flowers growing,
maybe it is your birthday.
all the boys are talking,
their eyes are closed and they're talking to her
it is hard to hear when i sleep

i.
midnight drives on these long nights,
i leave the heat
low
in my car
so i can see my breath
in order to know
that i am still breathing- alive.

ii.
after the blankets
of white
come the blooms of brilliance
roots sunken under green.

this is the kind of feeling
that makes you
soar
over mountaintops
and trees
of green.

iii.
bare arms and
tank topped torsos
sweat dripping onto
each other as we
embrace.

words i say
emanating heat and
childlike perfection
chalk marked sidewalks.

bright eyed, i say yes.

iv.
colours.
orange, yellow, red.

the trees
are on fire-
it's that time
of the year.

the trees are on fire,
but
cool air
is
holding desperately
on to
my space.

v.
maybe your heat could melt my icy skin. condensation dripping from your finger tips. i'm holding on to this, this moment. my life isn't in several shades of watercolour blue hues, but in vibrant shades of yellow. mustard is the one shade that's screaming whispers and lighting matches.

i saw her Eyes from the across the concrete field, not blue like an ocean but blue like my porch steps after it rains, blue like the bathmat i See as i watch it from above water, swirling and spinning under clear film, blue like the dorothy dress i Saw in the church when i was small, blue like my skin when i am dead and blue like my veins when life is brought unto me again. blue like the glow from my house's edwardian windows when i Look at them at sunset, blue like the wind and the goddess and the dew; she Looked back