i take it out
look at it
it's *****, stained, tainted
so i do what anyone else would do
i take soap
and i try to wash the dirt and stains away
i scrub
and rinse the soap all off
but it's all still there
just as fresh as it was at the beginning
even the cracks are still there
obviously i did something wrong
it's my fault, i did this
so i try again
and i scrub and scrub and scrub
and scrub and scrub and scrub
and scrub
try to clean it, it needs to be cleaned
like washing my hands
over and over and over
and over and over and over
and over
to no avail
i fail and fail and fail
so i stop trying
i made it this way, there's nothing i can do
a day goes by, it's the same
a week does by, it's the same
a month, two months, three months...
four
and there's a tiny shrink of a stain
and a tiny mend in one crack
but when i take it out and look at the stains
it looks like it did that first day
and the mending resets itself again

i am
                                                                               okay
in
     fleeting
                   moments

but they always seem to escape me

Our hands,
like roots of trees -
each finger, each tendril
gripping like stitches
in clothing.

My arm wrapped around your belly as
I map my way around your body
with tender traces,
with delicate whispers.

Your hair feels like a sea of silk;
A faint smell of showers
is all I can sense.

My heart beats behind yours.
I track the time with the
synchronicity of our beating.
Hours, minutes, and seconds
all lose meaning,
melting into a singular point in time.

All I know is you.
The map of you I carefully carved
on your
blank canvas.

The world fades away
as mist during a blinding sun.
All that is left are
two hearts,
a map,
a cartographer, and
you.

I am lost at sea.
This moment is my anchor.
You are my compass.

it's 5am
they lie down holding each other
they can't sleep
she gets up
she's sitting on his lap
as he lies on his back
she stares off, out the window
of her college dorm
with wooden closets and a wooden bedframe
with drawers underneath
and a wooden desk
the light from the sunrise barely reaches over the horizon
a moment of silence lingers
"what are you thinking?" he says
"why... are we still... up?" she replies
"i don't know"
she notices him looking deeply at her
inquisitive, curious, affectionately
"what are you thinking?" she asks him
"i kinda want to kiss you"
"why are you asking?"
as she brings her lips closer to his

a tan couch in the middle of a messy college apartment
the tv starts playing arrested development

episode one
two hearts joined by two hands
under a tan couch pillow
no glances
a small secret
another separate heart beats on a separate chair

episode two
one of the joined hearts falls asleep
in the other's lap
at first, fake, to be closer
then real, but conscious
two hearts still connected by touch

episode three
the tv stops playing
the sleeping heart awakes
the separate heart leaves
it's just the two

they wait
one heart had been waiting for a moment like this
the other didn't know it was waiting too
as if a connection strengthened through feeling
was growing in its subconscious for days

several minutes pass
it's quiet
the hands still held under the pillow
the waiting heart turns
the subconscious heart turns

the moment
they stare into each other's eyes
straight into their souls
that look
the greatest look both hearts can know
a pause
a rush
they lean in

two days from a year
and it's still one of my favourite memories
i'll never forget that look
that face
before we leaned in

two hearts are no longer joined
here, almost a year off from that night
four months since the hearts separated
this rain pours like my soul through the cracks of my heart