attracted because believe close
don't everything feel feels felt
gimme god
good her
his just kind know
last life like
love man me men
more my myself
need not now poems poetry read
scared see ****** something
stories thing think thought true
up very wanted
world
writing.

things happen
people get forgotten.
the worst part is
people sometimes forget themselves.

sometimes we need others
to stop us in our tracks
and look at us in the eyes and tell us

you exist.

a man is standing on my sweater
the rubber sole of his boat shoes
just brushing the hem of knitted stripes

only moments before,
I lay in my bed
on the white sheets
posed for sleep
and the room was empty
save for the scattered bits of clothing
and shards of private moments

crumbs of food eaten in solitude

but now there is a figure in my doorway
he has been dipped in the midst of all this
and he lightly places his foot
through the threshold
onto me

sometimes
i just want to dip myself into a piece of music
lukewarm
and swirl around
without hunger or fear

i am trying to

get my **** together it's

just so far apart

I want you in my arms,
but instead you are a pillow.
The emptiness makes up for my fingers in your hair,
the cold bed is your breath.
I want you bad,
but not when you want me.
That would be too easy.