it will be a very long time
before i stop thinking of your lips
every time
i hear the word
*"kiss"

I don't even care what I look like anymore
The only thing I've grown to care for
Is the way your fingertips trace my face
The way they glide down to my waist
When you tell me my skin is soft
Breathe out

I held the deepest sigh when you kissed me
It's been a long time since I've thought
Hey let's make love
Let's do it right until the moon is gone tonight
When you put your fingers somewhere raw
Breathe in

It's like a gasp I can't control it
Your skin on mine
Your bed we roll up in it
The smell of fruit and marijuana
When you kiss my tongue
Breathe out

I wrote this one for you
Because every time you say you hate yourself
I hate myself a little more too
I've grown to care for absolutely nothing
Except the way you smile when we're touching
Breathe in

i used to pace my room
in confusion of why i couldn't get over
the single month we spent together
sharing coffee, kisses, stories, bodies
i barely knew your middle name
but we talked again a few days ago
and i asked you, "do you think
if the people we are now were to
have met eachother before the
people we were then, we would've
had a chance?"

inthe moment it took
for you to reply
i finally figured it out
me and him, we are the
connection, as opposed
to the attraction i have
mistaken it for, he taught
me how to love softly, he
talks like he still knows me
and i still don't trust it but
i have never experienced
anything like this and
now i am pacing my room
again, caught on a simple
text message, sent 11:29am,
that reads "yes, i do."

it's not too hard to see through these tears i'm hiding
i promise you i don't know why
i just start to cry

"I don't want to be forgotten."
"I don't want to forget you."

*It's too bad things change.

How captivating it is
To watch the sun who was told she must love the sky, to defy, because despite the questions why, she knows it feels right, so she kisses with all her might, with all in sight, the earth every single night.

tonight was a godsend

he plays the cello in parks after hours while i'm smoking cigarettes and trying to think of things to write down later
he sleeps in the back of his truck with a blue blanket when he doesn't want to wake up in his bedroom alone
he climbs on everything and doesn't sit still and ***** girls that i can only imagine wish that he would kiss them too
he went to school for massage therapy and he looks like chris from skins and he was manic tonight and said i made him happy and he's sorry that he used me
i told him to do it again

i remember the way love used to taste
it crept up my sternum, crawled up the back of my throat, strangled my tongue, and leaped out of my mouth with a trembling, shaking "i don't know how to feel like this anywhere else so please let me stay"
although there was an eviction notice stuck in between the door and the frame but i didn't open the door, to leave, to see it
and i used to look at people who could find something good and run from it and wonder how they could possibly do that when i ran to every doorstep, pleading for someone to let me in and planting my feet firmly into their ground as soon as they did
there are pieces of myself in every corner of these rooms, every crack in these walls, clumped in bathroom sink drains and i understand now
the more love you give that is unrequited, the less you have to give out again

and i'm only a few drunken, empty i-love-you's away from running dry