Do you remember me?
I mean me.
The Luna Lovegood who wears socks during *** cause she'll take anything that'll increase her chances of an ******.
or how I doodle on the sides of my notebook about boys who hurt me but my best poetry is when I'm angry or otherwise disabled.
I swear in different languages coating the words with saliva cause sometimes they're hard to swallow. Sometimes I just spit.
Do you remember me the way I remember you?
Selfless to your self you put your chances of survival before the chance of actually surviving.
You hated your mother and sometimes your father but I never understood why your brother understood money in terms of power rather than metal and paper,
But then again.
I wasn't meant to understand it.
Cause if by the end of it,
If you don't see bruises on your skin,
You'll know that you didn't try hard enough.
but you don't have to try just yet.
today, the rain will sing us to sleep.

my heart flutters at
the way she speaks my name.
"lover", she hums,
and i watch speechless as woebegone
drips from her lips. she
tastes like moonlight
when she kisses me. fragile.
unknown. known.
when our bodies meet
i can't imagine living life any
differently than this;
magnetism draws me closer and
i am intoxicated and sobered and
and i let my fingers
trace symphonies over her skin
love songs and love letters
and the lust of
knowing that this is belonging.
we fold into each other
and it is inevitable. i want to
learn her, learn
every part of her, as if
it's what my soul was sent to do;
her heartbeat weaves a
gossamer of beauty and
she leaves it in the crease of my
neck. "lover".
lightworker. twinflame.
architect of this home, these
two arms that sing safety
into rose quartz bones.
this is harmony.
i release a held breath and
whisper back, "always".
this is my promise.

this is a reminder. sweet one,
your heart does not beat too loudly in your chest.
does not take up too much space,
does not mistake the moonlight for a streetlamp
when you hold your lover's hand
soft and intertwined
drunk and kissing your way home.
this is a reminder.
your heart is not a machine, is not
a second-class citizen, is not
the color of a bullet hole, a gunshot wound
against a rainbow flag;
this is a reminder. sweet one,
your heart is too big for your body
too tremendous to be
encapsulated within two arms and two legs and
ten fingers and ten toes and
when you kiss, sweet,
carry your hurt like the orange lillies
in front of my childhood home
planted by my mother and
the way she gave more
than she could give. give.
this is a reminder:
the only time
your heart should feel too loud in your chest
is when your fingers are finding her's
or his, or their's,
intoxicated by that moonlight,
a will to live against every clenched fist
finding harmony in disharmony
finding your way
to your orange lillies.

you ask me

Do I Feel Different Today?

today, day of days
when the child outside becomes the child within
when those seven billion billion billion atoms have more or less successfully completed nearly seventeen million kilometres of earth

spinning

in space around a ball of blazing plasma and all I want is a break from it all for just one second
breathe in
one
two
three
make a wish
blow out the candles
see each little light blink into oblivion until the only one left is the sun and

Do I Feel Different?

I am still
spinning.

have you ever cried upside down?
felt the tears stream up your face
down with gravity
and into all the wrong places?

felt the droplets, cooling as they race away from their mirrored origin,
slide over furrowed brow
across forehead and temple to dampen the sliver-thin hairs—
the ones that glow when lit from behind
—and rest where skin meets strand?

no
you have not felt these things
how could you have?
your world is always right side up.

You only seem to care when you're drunk or otherwise impaired
but maybe you're just scared of commitment.

These promises you make when we're barely awake always seem to fade by daybreak and I can't take this anymore.

If you play with my emotions always bringing me up and then down and I never know if you'll be found with some other girl,
then maybe I'm not the one you should run to when you want to have some fun at a party.

I am enough for you and if you can't understand then maybe you don't deserve to hold my hand and tell me that I'm beautiful.

These words I say to make you pay are not enough because words need actions but you never act
instead you live your life of lies never caring who you disguise yourself as or who you make cry.

You only seem to care when you're drunk or otherwise impaired
but maybe you're just scared of commitment.

There's a woman standing in the line for cheese
and I see a sadness in her eyes
and a mouth full of lies.
She's gonna tell him,
I spent it on tailoring your vest,
and he won't believe her
and I suppose you can guess what comes next.
she doesn't know it yet,
but when she takes the goat cheese back home
her daughter will tell her she wanted brie
and her son will sell his father's shirt
for pick up drug money.
you dont know it yet,
but this line will cause death.