Wearing red never felt like a sin
until my cheeks couldn't stop blushing
after my lipstick left a stain on his neck.
he told me afterwards,
you mean nothing to me
I wonder if those words
were supposed to hurt me;
he didn't mean much to me either.

We met at night
By the leaking window of the evening train
On the two seats with the fewest tears
Two spaces apart
Her perfume was like being loved to death
An olfactory haven above the damp and the diesel
I commented on the weather
And told her my name

Her movements were the increments
Of some heaven or hell
Some Utopia or Gomorrah
Her words trickled between bones
And emptied the room of air
"I'm going to tell you a story" she said

"It begins with a person falling
And ends exactly the same"

The mason jar I almost gave you
full of your favorite things,
Is now full of change
for my future,
Because you are infinitely in my past.

He was a nomad
He never stayed put in one place
Before he went mad
He would leave without a trace

But all this freedom came at a price
He had no place to call home
Nothing would ever suffice
All he did was roam and roam

He belonged to no one
He would spend his days at the gym
Yet he would most nights sleep alone
Because, you see, nobody belonged to him

And no love would last
Or even begin
And dear friends were left in the past
Along with what could've been

I guess the worst part was
Getting home with success
And hear not a single applause
Nor find a beautiful girl in a dress

I have heard a heart
drop and a
heart burst,
but I've never quite felt
a contraction
or inflation
as red
or
as full of life
as you.

You are blue
in an ocean
that never knew.

Yellow paints
the sun,
and your hips,
too.

I gather flowers
in valleys,
blooming without
any stems
for you.