haunted houses don't look the way they do in the movies.
they aren't dark and dreary.
there's no antique gothic furniture, no creepy paintings.
no books for some spectre to pull off a shelf
and throw at a wall-
those got sold at the garage sale over the fourth of July weekend.
and you couldn't salvage the bookshelf,
so you left it on the curb.

and there's probably a good number of cobwebs at first,
but everything will be vacuumed and dusted before the week is out.
and it smells like fresh paint when you first walk in,
so the colour appeals more to new buyers,
but you can still see the gaudy yellow underneath the crisp white.

and as for the ghosts,
rest assured they'll be there,
but whoever moves in won't see them.
it'll just be me,
and the faint outline against the wall
where the sofa used to be.
and when I look close enough,
I can still see them sitting there.

we are two souls floating
drawn together
and when it's only us
and I belong to you
and you belong to me
it's like we're infinite

and the universe is all
grey sweatshirts
and headphone wires
and hazel eyes
and conversations
we're floating, infinite

two souls intertwined
tangled together
you are part of me
and I am part of you
we are here
and we are infinite

there's something about you
that buries itself in my chest
growing its roots somewhere deep inside
blooming and blossoming
reaching and tangling around my veins
wrapping its vines around my bones
spreading its pollen through my bloodstream with every gentle heartbeat
seeping through my fingers and toes
crawling up my spine and flowering in my thoughts
I carry you everywhere
and as I fall asleep at night,
I think about the way it feels
to have you next to me

and when his life was taken
his pain had ended
as soon as it had started

your smell is stuck in my head
i made it up but i know it’s true

i daydream of your hands on my cheeks
your lips on my lips
my fingers in your hair
and i can smell it

you sing strawberries and watermelons but
you smell like firewood and ink
its my most absurd fantasy
that you could find a piece of me to love
so i’ll keep your voice in my ears
and let you sing me to sleep
with that sugar and salt melody

if it burns my tongue
then so be it.

and when you said
laughter is like a foreign language
i imagined that i was
teaching you how to
speak it