Her voice is strained.
Her skin is fair.
Her ******* lay on the countertop.
I **** her until my thoughts stop.

She rejects the notion of love for all,
as she leans against my kitchen wall,
with a cigarette and an unbuttoned blouse-
she wants to be homeless in my house.

She keeps me in her necklace's locket,
and I keep her in the wallet in my pocket.
Her toes kiss the linoleum,
she walks like she's made of helium.

She mumbles that I taste like mint chocolate chip,
as she rubs against my hip.
Her breath smells like Malboro Lights,
and I hope she decides to stay the night.

Milky Ways and Vanilla Cakes,
she likes the way my body shakes,
as we lay and eat our troubles away.
Hurried words slow the day.

She asks me about my stretch marks and scars,
and if I've ever been hit by a car.
And I say no, but I've been hit by love before,
and it feels like getting your hand caught in a door.

Hurried smiles and bathroom stalls,
she likes the way my family never calls.
The words escape between her plump lips,
as my hand travels between her hips.

We move until we forget
that the world is moving faster.

The cereal and liquor occupy the same cabinet.
That's why I wasn't surprised when you told me that ***** would go well with my cheerios when we were out of milk.

We haven't had milk in months, but I can point you to the moonshine.
It might taste better if you dilute it with frosted flakes.

How does it taste to chase your whiskey with lucky charms?
Do you really feel lucky?

It's okay, I'll skip breakfast.
I'm not hungry anyways.

But don't worry about me.
I'll come down to join you for happy hour.

you have cotton candy thighs
that dissolve on his tongue
and lips that taste like
lemonade on a 90 degree
day
and you’re light brown hair
blowing over your shoulder
from a cool breeze that
touches your tongue and
tangles through your open
mouth because you’re
laughing and you’re a white
t-shirt and yellow flowers
pushing up against the grass
and rain after weeks of an
empty sky and everyone
wants to drink you up and
they melt under your fingertips
you are paint stained hands
and peppermint tea
and strawberry ice cream
and then you meet this guy
and you let him touch you
and he sets you on fire
and suddenly you’re a girl
who likes the heat and
won’t run when a room is
full of smoke and you’re
coughing up ashes
and you think you’re brave
but you’re just dark and hard
and cold and empty
and you’ve got a heart that
can’t love anything but fire
and boys who play with lighters

he looked at me and for a second i saw stars fall. i was no longer submerged in gravity's thick blanket, i was wrapped in his iris and pulled into the arms of his eye sockets.
i thought i must be an astronaut, since this was a different planet, something i'd always imagined venus or jupiter would be like.
i'm breathing through his lungs and it feels foreign to me, the kind of feeling you get when you step inside someone else's home--
except this one had a soul and a voice that put me to sleep even when i was so restless i felt i had the moon hanging on my shoulders.
so, with that, i crawled inside his bloodstream and shut out the lights, his voice barely audible when he told me he could no longer feel me pushing him away.