Your body is a haunted house
and I want to live inside of it
I want to listen
to the floorboards creak
and to the ghosts
whispering all their darkest secrets

Your body is a haunted house
and I want to live inside of it
I want to seep
into the floorboards
into the foundation
into the soil

Your body is a haunted house
and I want to live inside of it
I want to fill every room
everything
everywhere
with the same light
you have poured into me

Your body is a haunted house
and I want to live inside of it
I want to stay
until we crumble
into dust

You fall in love with everyone when they are talking about their favorite things
You fall in love with voices that rumble like the earth whispering all its darkest secrets
You fall in love with people who carry the moon in their chests
You fall in love with people’s scars, you dive into their stories, you memorize the maps of memories on their skin
You fall in love with the sorrow people cater to in their hearts, you wait to see how much of it spills out and where it goes afterward
You fall in love with a song you’ve heard since you were born but you never remember, you hear it humming in the blood of everyone around you
You fall in love with anyone who quotes Vonnegut and makes eye contact for so long it makes you feel uncomfortable
You fall in love with the way another person’s presence can begin to feel so much like home
You fall in love with the bits of cosmic dust connecting your veins to those of every living thing
You fall in love with the night sky and all its musings
You fall in love with absolutely everything
You surrender yourself
You shed your skin
You fall into love and let it swallow you whole

Remember how the night was deceptively warm, and how you carried all the frost in your chest like you hadn’t spoken a word in a whole year
Remember how you drove to their house with a hurricane in your blood thinking of everything that could go wrong
Remember how you felt your knees crumble and your lungs lock up that summer night in the park behind the school
Remember how badly this ended before
Remember all the cruel hands you let touch your skin when you were grasping at anything that made you feel less alone
Remember the vulnerability
Remember the panic
Remember the feeling of an anvil on your chest
Remember the jubilance
Remember the nights when your bodies entwined on a bed made too small for two people to share
Remember the way their eyes lit up when they told you about all their favorite things
Remember how they cracked open their ribs and poured out everything collected inside
Remember how you wanted to drink their light like it was wine
Remember how you wanted to open their skull and swim inside
Remember how you would bottle sunlight for this person if you could
Remember how you you would swallow all their pain and carry all their fear if you were strong enough
Remember how you were too excited by their existence to fall asleep some nights
Remember how you fell in love like having the wind knocked out of you in the very best way
Remember all of this, every bit

"Baby I'm still in love, but you never even respond."

You tell me what to be
Then become angry with what I Am
With who you made Me

Your mouth spews harsh criticism
Your words set fire to the originality
You make dark from the light

Don't blame how I Am on Me
Blame it on You
After all, it's all your fault

I am 16
And I have found love in a
boy who is 5 years older than me.
He tells me he loves me and I
lose myself in him.
He breaks my heart, twice.
We still keep in touch.

I am 20
I have found love in a girl
with curly blonde hair and eyes
like the sea. She holds my hand
and sings to me, kisses my forehead.
We haven't spoken in a year.

I am 21
I think I have found love.
He doesn't acknowledge what we
are in public and he thinks insulting
me is funny. He kisses me like he loves me
though, so I tell myself it's enough.
He moved miles away; I think he was
just as lonely as I was.

I am 22*
She's the one. Her hair is never
the same color and sometimes
she laughs too loud. She has scars
that she regrets, but she's doing
everything she can to keep going.
She is me, and I am in love.

11pm is for those who can't sleep,
bloods filled with rush;
because of the sweet texts they just can't wait to read.

1am is for the poets who just can't stop,
can't stop the thoughts entering --
entering their mind one by one.

And 2am is for the broken.
The ones who can't stop thinking,
Thinking of what might've been,
What could've been.