I rather write about this world than live in it
And id rather play music all day
and read and wander around in bookstores
and watch humans but not be one of them.

the veins
on my hand
look like road maps
and still, I’ve been trying
to follow my heart home.
the road map of veins end
at my forearm
where I’ve etched your name
countless times
with shards of stained glass.
home isn’t where the heart is.

I know that I'm no good for you
You are the sun, moon, stars, sky
All the wonderful things in this universe
While I'm just a breathing human being
Who merely craves for your existence
more and more each day

I want to softly whisper
incomplete poems
on your collar bones
that don't rhyme with anything
but your heavy breathing.

I want to bury my face
in the curves of your neck
because you smell like the winter clouds
and I've been gazing at the sky
since you left.

THEY WERE ALL JUST WORDS BEFORE YOU

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