I’m terrified
Of loving more;
So I never
Take the tag
Off my relationships
In case
I have to return them.
As if love was a possession.

Relapsing with you
Would be like the dealer
Giving me a bad batch of relief
Tainted with guilt

If you can love this mess
This hot, sticky mess
That listens to Noah Kahan
And still cries
Even though I’ve heard these words
Over
And
Over,
Tell me yours
Once again
So I can fall in love with you-
If you can
Fall in love with this mess

Heartbreak feels
Like treading barefoot
On hot coal;
As it burns,
I can’t help but remember
This pain
Felt with lovers before.

And I am left wondering;
How many times
Can a heart be split
In two?

I think in art

I think in art-
And sometimes it does not
Translate well into reality,
So forgive me if the words
Don’t come out right
-they are after all only concrete words-
And I’ve already painted my love for you
Within the depths of my mind
In all the feelings and colors
That have existed
In all the worlds
Throughout all the times.

Intimacy is
Wanting to feel
The way you choose to kiss-
Just as much as wanting to hear the words you choose to speak to others

Wanting to feel
The curves and movements of your body-
Just as much as wanting to watch the choices you make

Wanting to experience
The bareness of your skin
Just as much as wanting to view the unraveling of your mind in all its vulnerability

Oh how my love
How I wish to see you again;
You've left my touch
But I still feel you every day
You've left my sight
But I still see you in strangers I meet;
A flicker of you draws my eye-
Is it my way of replacing you with someone else
Or is it because you taught me a little something about people
That I never would have learnt without you?

I think the truth is
My dear love
That maybe all you were meant to be
Was a fragment within me
That I carry wherever I go

We are constantly trying
To achieve more and more
In smaller and smaller
Spaces of time

Praising productivity
Forgetting why we are expending our energy
Working ourselves to the bone
Forgetting the core of why we do this

Forgetting that we grow best
In soft, gentle, warm spaces
Placed in just enough sunlight
To bloom

How do I explain
That you used to
Make me feel
Like my inner child
Was being held?

How do I explain
This emptiness
Now that you’re gone?

I feel
A tender sorrow
For my younger self.
I wish I could tell her
That this heartbreak
Is not a mistake
And that there will
Come a day when
She will feel lighter.  

I wish I could hold her
In my arms
That are strengthened
By hindsight;
And rock her to sleep
Like my mother
Should have done.

I'd like to
Write a poem about you;

It's the first I've written in months-

But I don't know where to start;

Perhaps I'll start
With how I melted
When I lay on your chest
And listened to your soul-

Perhaps I'll  start
With how you remind me
Of a love I once lost.