4am, why am i so angry?
the usual mistake of thinking i want to die when in reality i just want to curl up and stick my head into his rib cage,
blink with his beating heart,
rest for a while and come back ready
to take on each day,
a little extra protection

i wonder if it will take 100 times to get tired of me
200, 400 times of
love-making or
rough *** or
"give me your dirtiest version"
"i want you so badly i wish i could teleport hundreds of miles to you tonight."
i don't know why i think sitting passenger in my car smoking newports will eventually get boring to you but baby stay a while and i'll do it just how you like
let this last and i'll touch my tongue to your sweet spot

an interesting flavor, an interesting smell
sometimes i still catch the drifting scent of my first kiss
i can't help but wonder
"how many people in this life am i going to miss and
miss and
miss"
I don't remember any other version of myself and that's terrifying, but I'm also scared that I don't really know what version I am currently presenting
How do you know if you're not real
(**** me to help me not think about it)
(But pls still love me after, so I can hear your reply)

new safe spot in between his collar bone and ear
wish i could hear his exhale right now
feel it on the top of my head as i rest.
do i trust him?
do i always?
will i ever?
can you believe a man really means what he says when the things he is softly mentioning in your ear are meant for the perfect woman, are too good to be directed at me?
i want to trust him, so i will.
&i'll softly mention that he deserves the world
(but i won't bring up that im scared i can't give it to him)

My full stomach is a message on an answering machine:
"Honey I'm just checking in to make sure you made it home safe, don't forget to call me back.."

I tell myself to eat to make it to tomorrow
(I say, it's okay, it's really not that much),
in reality I just lack self control
And I don't have a home phone line baby,
My voicemail box is full
Let's lose 10 pounds this month and
Still
Manage
To
Smile

There's no point in trying to understand the mechanics of thought right now
I'm choosing to sit this one out.
I'll wait at the end of the bed,
Come when you call
Stick my hand out in the dark,
Trace your shoulder and whisper,
"I'm not sure we'll make it out of this okay"
(and maybe we'll both shrug..because we don't care)

counting down every inhale until you make me gasp again
waiting with every sigh
deep relief will come with patience
self-reliant but acknowledging that relief feels easiest in between your limbs
puzzle pieces tied together as puppets
dancing under bed sheets
or on rocks, or picnic tables, or carpet