I am canvas
Paint me
Cover me over and gild me
Grace me
With your glare
Turn me gold with your stare
Gather me, dust, and
Press me into diamond
Make me better
Turn me kind

une bise
il ecrit,
est le vice de les attriste

and so it was

snip me into strips.
re-arrange my lines and
diction into one of your
manic-pixie-found-poems.
black out the most important
parts of me with messy sharpie
and paste me onto some photo,
whose irrelevancy adds to the
romantic air you were trying
to achieve.

then read me to glassy-eyed
existentialists looking for life-meaning,
and display me on your wall
affixed with haphazard masking tape.
love me like this.

turn me into a forgotten love poem.

lets make poetry with
no words-
just our lips and teeth

let me write lines in
violet ink
across your pages

let me hold onto our
paper poems
with fists clenched tight

let me leave creases
in the best parts
and let me write out
our favourite lines
over and over again

i want you to lie to me
gratuitous, lascivious, delicious lies.

the kind of lies that swallow you whole.
fantasies.  

i want you to tell me i'm more than i am
that theres more to me
that im better than her and that i want it more

i want you to lie to  me.
i want you to love me

even if the moon steals his light from the sun
at least he glows bright in the darkness-
at least he gleams at all
at least he swims across the sky
unlike i, who barely glisters,
who barely drowns in the black noise of night

i'm not saying he doesn't deserve it
but i'm not saying he does.

she's one of those girls who will
turn you into a cliché
she'll trace her fingers across you
and suddenly you're waking up
and suddenly you're here
and you've suddenly realized
maybe the world isn't such a bad place to be

maybe in that moment,
with the world rushing past,
only what was before me and behind me,
i was truly happy.

I'd prefer to stuff my love for you
in a concise, zip-locked easy to reheat bit,
rather than let it sprawl across fields of space.
I'd rather have a zealous moment than
a dull eternity.
I'd rather love you fervently for a second
than spread thin over an hour.

Just let me give you what I have, and ask for nothing more.

i fancy myself a poet,
but really, i'm just a
sad person with an
outlet.