you are a faceless ghost
living in the marrow of my bones
and sometimes
i feel
like you are sitting
right behind me
but there is no one there
when i turn around

i wish you were there when
i turn around
so then
maybe i could justify
that lingering
sensation
on my fingertips

and why i feel
so connected
to the
emptiness in my bed
(and why I whole heartily
believe you
should
fill it)

Ocean eyes
so deep and blue
I drown in their hue
beautiful and intoxicating
I promise I’m not overrating
Long lashes
silken sashes
but what enthrals
most of all
is the love that I see
When they gaze at me

i want to liquify my body

into the fibers of my mattress

solidify your

presence

so i can wake up

in the summer time

with the taste

of your name

on my lips

and your

skin

on my skin

in the summertime

is when i will wake up

to your face

We made hearts of paper mache and gave them to each other.

I saved yours in the bottom drawer of my desk
carefully kept, away from the dust and decay
of my adolescent bedroom.
It was safe, clean and pristine,
and I had no intention of hurting it.

I think you shoved mine between the spines of notebooks,
littered with skateboard stickers.
Over time it splintered and withered and
while you were digging for your printer
You found it.

When you gave it back, it had turned black
and blue with ink and paint residue.
I held it broken, battered, and used,
I felt the fragment pain ensue
I guess the best things you give end up coming back to you.