my thoughts brought me back to france
again

i havent heard your voice for a year
and some

kinda funny how i only remember what it sounds like
because of how you'd say
"sortie"

i have started collecting your words
and planting them
like flowers in a meadow

sometimes i pick them out
     "i'm crazy about you"

and twist them between my fingers
      "they'll write movies about us"

or pull at the petals
     "i like to know that somewhere in this world there's you"
in a game of love me, love me (not), love me

and, god, i hope spring never ends

im enamored by the bare bones hanging from your gums

they remind me of the time my body lost its skin
whenever my veins and organs and such slipped through its cage

its been a while since ive thought of the monster hiding underneath my - non-social media - persona

excuse me while i check my twitter

oh yes,

forget the instrumental tone of the paper bag holding your fast food crumbling beneath your grasp because it is
what is behind this smile
the (arguably) faster food
that fills empty hearts, minds, lives

but who are you without these bare bones?
is it reason alone that compels me to stop staring-
or the fact that i just got a new notification

excuse me while i . . .

i have studied how men
have ensnared women
and called it love

to those who cannot fathom
a woman beyond womanhood
or a woman  beyond man

she was never yours to understand
she belongs to the deity of her own creation
she belongs to the eve who bit the apple and never apologized

you jumped into my salt waters because you knew you'd float.

im composed of whats drowning me
but, love, how i refuse to let you sink.

when you decide to come back
i'll be where I normally am

waiting for you