daydreaming of *** and actually liking the idea of making deals like "you clean the dishes, i'll do the laundry and take out the trash"

sometimes i write about the same thing
over and over and over and ov-
I don't know why
and sometimes I yell it all in my mind and it doesn't stop until i cry
and sometimes I go to the studio and forget about everything
except pointing my feet
but I know there's no future in that because my feet don't point far enough
and I can't yell loud enough for it to stop
and throwing my body around a stage only makes me forget for the length of the song
and what if one day i can't stand to remember
or what if one day all i want to do is remember
i could get too far lost in it all
or get lost in it while trying to grasp onto the edge

i know i start things in fragments
or in the middle of a sentence
beginning with "so" or "but" or "and"
i know sometimes i leave things hanging
because some nights i walk out the door still not having
any poems come out of my mouth
and i get in my car and just can't quite figure it out
anything i write anymore is a love poem (oops)
but when i look in your eyes all i can think to say is "i love you," i guess
nothing too poetic
yet the way you say it
is what structures my poems

(it's not that i don't want to speak in stanzas,
but take it as a compliment that sometimes your eyes make me dizzy enough not to think straight)

and i know you were drunk
but the tragedy of last night is that i believed every sweet word you said

6 months ago you made me a playlist and sent me the link
and you told me to tell you when i pressed play
so you could press play at the same time
and we could listen to it together
and talk about what we're hearing at the same time

one of my favorite things to do is listen with you

sometimes i wish i could be a window
and you are always on the inside,
and i am always letting the sun peek in
and you look so handsome smiling through rays of sunshine

i need to stop treating my mind like a punching bag
i need to take rests and drink water
stop staying up late at night
digging through the past,
knowing i'll never be a first kiss to anyone
-it shouldn't matter, it doesn't-
but do you think about her?
(she was prettier than me)