you are so lovely in your wicked ways
you are heavy
i can feel it, so can the room

everyone is waiting for that pause
the one you find yourself existing in

you are so lovely in your wicked ways
finding the quirks
the imbalanced romanticism in their dialect

'yeah, i’m a southern boy'
the kind you swore you’d stay away from

you spent too many nights with knights at rogue water
underage but over your limit

oh boy, that patagonia
slinging country song quarters into the jukebox

take me home!

you are so lovely, even in your wicked ways

do you like country music?
he turns left for the freeway
do you know how to drive stick shift?

you are so lovely, even in your wicked ways
i didn’t fold her laundry
she left my XXL t-shirts without wrinkles
pink, without wrinkles

you are so lovely in your wicked ways
he mixes a couple of drinks for you
reaches to grab your hand from across the bar
seared by the tea-light candle

i waltzed out of that bar like i had him
he is small and beautiful with a temper
i could love him all while hating him

i’m just a gal whose nose bled
after falling into his bed (more than once)
more than once

you got mad at me for photographing the scabs on your arm
it exists as evidence - you’ve bled, you hate it
as if it made you less of a man  

regretting every time you display affection
tell me how you really feel
tell me how you’ve fallen
as if it made you less of a man

baby, you’re my man
and i documented your old blood
because its the closest i’ve gotten
to seeing your insides
the closest i’ve been
to truly believing
that you have a heart
or that you bleed
for me

my baby exists when he wants to
leaving vitamin D outside my door
gives me kisses on my arteries
kisses my bruises even more

my baby gives flowers for breakfast
and claims they won’t ever bloom
he loves me, he loves me not
he speaks in glances across the room

my baby breaks my heart
my baby adores me so
my baby knows just the right spot
gotta let my baby go

we find ourselves crumpled like paper
my nosebleed acts like glue
you smell and taste like pixie dust
my eyes roll around the room

ascending towards heaven
i grip your ribs like handrails

you stop me short -
'i'm going to...'

and like a napkin under the dinner table
i’m falling off your lap

you'll remember me when you need to clean up
when you need to wipe your hands

too far away to tell you my knees hurt
but still close enough that i can hear you breathe in my ear
'oh, kelia'

when you tell me
'i told you so'
or
'i tried to warn you'

i will only be mad at myself for not listening to anything
but 'oh, kelia'

​can only hug me one armed
knights under a fan that shakes
as my legs go their own way
too far gone into loving you
say you love me in some ways too
concerned with your own knees
to worry about mine how can i
willingly put myself in your bed
do you think that maybe when
you leave me for dead
you won’t miss me if you die too!

a loverboy that didn’t last
an agreement
maybe it wasn’t supposed to

i can add him to the list
i’ve got going in my head

‘ones who left’

never wrote it down because
i think it might change

a loverboy who held my head
the 30th time he found me
spinning in circles
chasing neon with whiskey

held it until the morning after
brought me water in a mug
‘you’re a cool girl, can i see you tonight’
and then never called

i can write about him
until i find someone new

loverboy who i wasn’t ready to lose
just yet

he asked ‘yet’?
and i corrected
‘ever’

loverboy who left me little crumbs
to eat
after he took me home for dinner

he says he’s ‘not in the right place
for loving a girl like you’
and i roll my eyes, toss my socks into the corner
‘yet?’ i ask

‘ever’