all i want is to fall into the floor. i want to sink myself through the cracks of the wooden boards and weave myself into the rug. i lay here every night, hoping, waiting for the moment when the atoms in my body vibrate at just the right intensity that i pass through, becoming one with the ground. i want flowers to grow through my spine, baby's breath in my teeth, camellias in my hair. i want to squeeze my eyes shut so tight that i can drown out the voices that call after me: "no! not again! you'll fall asleep!"

i'm laying on the wooden floor, hoping and praying to a god i don't believe in. i move my hand and suddenly my face is wet, stained with tears and paint and pain and all other things. i think i can stand but my legs are honey and you are the ***. jigsaw pieces litter the ground but i don't mind it down here.
i can't read you right now. i have my magnifying glass but i'm too scared to start a fire. i can't see you right now. i'm thirty-four miles away on top of a rock in the canyon and i can't talk right now, the reception is bad and my feet hurt. you leave me a message anyways. i miss your voice.
maybe alice was wrong about those cookies. maybe we should have stuck to the warning on the bottle and swallowed our tears and gave up trying to stay afloat. or maybe eating burnt bread by the candlelight was worth every painful second, every moment knowing i would and will lose you.

its been thousands of years since ive seen your face but i still remember the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about. i guess after a while the light went out when you thought about me.

i’m drowning in a sea of green.
it’s waters are murky and deceitful-
i thought i knew how to swim.
i open my eyes to find myself
sitting in a bed of concrete,
no water in sight.
i find myself unfamiliar with dry land,
taken aback by the absence of warmth.
all i know is that i have to get back up,
rebuild what has been washed away.

i’m drowning in a sea of green.
the water is warm and welcoming-
it opens car doors for me,
and holds my hand as i walk the earth.
nearing it’s shores, i melt.
i want it to hold me in its grasp forever,
pulling me into its depths of safety and love.
it’s subtle crashing waves lull me into a trance.
i dream of a perfect world,
where the only thing in between me and the water is the oxygen in my lungs.

it's almost as if everything is perfect, even if just for a moment.
maybe it's from the way you tilt your head back when you laugh,
or it's the familiar scent of watermelon rinds and petrichor in the air.
but mostly, I think, it's because of the safety I feel with you.
I can feel the fireworks detonate,
in my heart and my chest.
I flinch as a blur of colors light up the sky
but you wrap your arm around my shoulders
and let me know that everything is alright.
you lace your hand with mine and i lay my head on your shoulder.
"wake up," you say, "you're dreaming."
but I don't hear you.
all I can hear is the sound of our heartbeat, together,
and the explosion of fireworks.