try hard
try harder
sigh
give up
save draft
go back
edit
wait
delete
he’ll never read it anyway.

220
is the fastest a
sport bike can go
and it’s also how many
times my heart beats every
single minute that i talk to you.

being on the shore
and looking out at the water
is so different
from being on the water,
looking towards the shore.

i would never tell you this
but i have a favorite towel,
one that you left at my house
a sunny summer day
long ago when we went to
wild waves and we got stuck
on a ride together.
i’ll never forget how you feigned
disinterest in the questions you asked me, while your eyes lit up with fires. the last time i saw you
was when you got back from
europe, you reached to smooth down my skirt that
was flowing in the wind and
i gasped as your hands starting at my waist, trailed down to my hips.
struck silent you told me you had
never seen me so quiet.
maybe that’s why you sat across
from me at the dinner table
and offered me the last of your drink with a smirk and a wink…
leaving me hoping that you’ll
forget more than a towel next time

you make me feel
like i’m looking through
rose colored lenses.

i see your faults
with a hint of red.

i hear your lies spoken
with cherry lips, and i
want to charge like a bull.

I think ghosts
are a beautiful creation
we use to fill up ugly,
empty spaces.

the thing about a
bad record on repeat is
after a while you start
to like it.