Upon close inspection
There are holes in the sheets
Which have not been washed in months
But at any attempt to make them clean
They would fall apart

They could be very easy to straighten
Just a small tug at the corners
On each end
But they are preferred to keep crumpled
Because to smooth out the fabric
They would fall apart

Dark blue
Maybe to reflect their favorite kind of night
Probably
Just so that when put with anything else
They manage to look fine
But if the color or dusted light
Were to change, you could see
They are falling apart

The sheets are ready to come apart
No pull at the thread
They are not the kind to unravel
But more exist
In the sense that their own slow decay
Are what keep them clinging tightly

The two people laying between
Are very much the same
If either were to change a thing

They would fall apart.

I don’t believe in a god
But I have faith that she can
make the sun shine brighter
when it’s tangled in her hair

She is inexplicable
I don’t know if she exists because
evolution isn’t perfect
and God doesn’t happen

She shouldn’t be happening
But those are her fingers
and her palms
I could memorize every line

And rewrite every vein in her body
because our hearts don’t beat together
and I try not to look at her that way

But it still happens
andI have to catch myself
from falling for her

It sits on the top shelf
Gathering
Thoughts
As days
Months
Years go by
Sometimes without disturbance
Collecting its layers of
Mud tracked in
Or
Dandruff rubbed from an itchy scalp
That got caught in the currents
And brought to the top
Of the shelf
Where it sits
Until a chance
Blows by
Tumbling into the air
Catching on sneezes
And sunlight
Making the light a
Solid
Tangible
Kingdom

The tips of our fingers
          can barely meet
But I am only real
          and she is made of shadow

It’s a long way
          to reach out and touch her lips
The feather of her breath
          enough to make the candle flicker

There are dreams behind her eyelids
          that I have no chance of hearing
My hand lands on an empty pillow
          where the tips of our lives
          just barely met

Her arm trailed to the floor
And her fingernail could only
Just brush the carpet

I like to imagine tracing
The hollow of her spine
But I know I’d wake her up

So I watch her dreams
Flit across her face
And I imagine myself in them

I never thought I could love
A pattern of freckles like that
Or her rhythm of heartbeat
And breathing

The moment she wakes up
Is the moment she is gone

And I lie where she did
Tracing circles in the carpet
That she didn’t even touch

I thought I thought
You thought the thoughts
I thought were thoughtful,
But I think I was wrong.

You wouldn't look me
In the eye when I was done

I thought I thought I had thought
Everything there was to think
But I should have said so many things
And should have shared the things
I should say
But I still don't think that's a good idea.

But I'm not sorry
Because I want you to see

Saying something is stronger
Than just thinking the thought really loud
But if something shouldn't be said
Do you think someone will ever say it aloud?

It wasn't supposed to be a mistake
And I really don't know how

Thinking comes from saying
Is it the other way around?

Raindrops
Hitting a glass bottle
Deep in the outskirts of the woods
Baby chimes hollow in the din of silence
Slicing across the glass and down my neck
Bitter, miserable, sad, punishing rain
Fall again and again as the only thing I understand
And the only thing that understands me
Raindrops
Fill my eyes because I've cried away the sea
Cut rivers down my face and across my arms
Please keep on flowing because you
Are the only thing I understand
And please

Keep hitting that hollow glass bottle
In your perfect imitation of my heartbeat