You are
rain on a sunday morning
a safety blanket
amidst foreign sheets

You are
a stormy sea
tsunami tides
they draw me in

You are
a shot of whiskey
taste that lingers
on my wine-stained lips

You are
a reverie only the
wild mind can concur
they say
don't touch masterpieces

but let me hold your hand.

The city, alive
feel
the beat of its
pulsing heart
in your hands
inhale
the air it breathes;
it heaves
abandoned desires
melancholy sighs

immerse
yourself into its
hollowed alleyways
concealed by
shadows of
wandering footsteps
trace
crevices of
every brick
a canvas for
misguided souls
who live for
art and cigarettes.

The city, alive
deceit lies
in calculative eyes
designed to
lure you in
with every blink.

I spend my nights getting drunk
on whispers that ring
the promises of tomorrow
and days counting
cornflakes in my milk like
birthday candles that never melt.

but whether
the sun is rising
or the silver moon ascends
you’re the caffeine
that trickles through
my veins.

My solace comes in
blemished sheets
bleeding the ink of
unspoken words
and broken sentences
i wake up with
on the tip of my tongue

I seek the comfort
nestled within
the gap between
my thoughts
and the pen

     bring me a knight
     without the sword,

kiss my ink-stained fingers
search me in the
labyrinth of letters
and

     *i promise to love you in a paragraph.

the daisy in the vase
sits by the window
with its feet dipped in water
its drooping head
drinking in sunshine

yet
it doesn’t stop
the blush pink from
littering the countertop
in hues of brown
leaves now,
shrivelled prunes
ripe of its
existence

love me
love me not

the daisy in the vase
remains only
a single stalk.