i am a white empty room and there is no 2 o'clock august light shining through my window.
i think it skipped me because it thought no one was home.
i say i live in a house with too many rooms.
and that things are not supposed to love you.
i want everything to happen to me as it happens.
i am 11:12 pm.
i don't really know much, but once i heard that your fist is roughly the size of your heart
and when flies fall in love their brain is rewired to know only loving each other
and when one of them dies the others brain goes blank so maybe, i'm a fly.
i was born in the year of the ox, the month of the bull, and the body of a white rose.
ripped from my home, and given to someone who does not love me.

my name tastes of smoke and regret after a long night together.
it is the feeling you get that morning after you hadn't slept and there is nothing you want more than to have a good nights sleep.
it is everything pure, but broken.
a beautiful vase smashed into a million pieces just like your heart as the only person you've ever loved walks away and doesn't say a word.
it is the moon. always hiding away part of itself in the darkness of its sadness.
it has too many letters, yet it is still not enough.
in greek it stems from its root word meaning alone.
it is the name of a poet that doesn't succeed.
is is the name of a saint who used to sin.
it is rainforest eyes that blink too much.

it's 2:00am.
and no matter how many books i leave beside me,
how many times my dog sneaks into my bed and snuggles me,
how many pillows i have,
or how many times i sleep on your side,
only you will fill this






*space

i tried to spend time with you inside my head
because i'm not important enough for you to give up a lunch break for
or to sleep beside on a 2 o'clock august afternoon as you make the light shine through my bedroom window.
brown was never my favorite color, until i saw your eyes through my tears.

                you think it's romantic to **** the girl that writes poetry about you.
                the first time we slept together you took your underwear off first.
                and kissed my forehead and told me you loved me.

i'm asked why i don't leave you
and i say i live in a house with too many rooms.
that i want everything to happen to me as it happens.
i think you have the most beautiful mind
you're the type of person that people write songs about
and stay up all night crying over
praying to their imaginary friend for the pain to stop.

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it’s 2 am
we’re sitting in your car, squeezing in the front seat.
you’re holding me in your big arms
you look at me, wild eyed and restless and whisper,
“i love you. and i don’t want to lose you.”
so i looked away and fought back my tears
i held your hand, but then quickly let go.
“but you don’t intend on keeping me either. do you?”
and to that you had no response

so we continued to lay there in silence
because i know you don’t love me.
or maybe you do, and maybe it’s just in a way that i don’t understand.
we always hurt the ones that we love
so maybe you just love me too much.
i can’t wake up in the morning without you on my mind.
it troubles me to think that we might not be meant for each other.
or this entire time you are just a dream.
if you are, how could my mind ever create a creature so beautiful?
a human so perfect.

you come to me with every unbalanced emotion
but i know if i ever show up at your door,
wild eyed and restless,
you will not show me sympathy or let me in.
you will tell me to go home.