Why should a sun dictate
What we see and what we don’t?
Are we that insecure
That we have to pay
For our passion
To be seen?

I wake in the quiet hours
When the world is sleeping
I roll over, drawn to your warm and soft skin
You roll over and groan
Waking from the world of dreaming
Mumbling beautiful nothings in your French smoky tone
In the dark, my senses guide my lips to yours and you pull me home

You gently rise
I listen to your sweet steps as they meet the floor
The waking aroma of the espresso fill my lungs
You return to the still room
I hear the crinkling as you roll your morning cigarette
I slowly lift my head
My heavy eyes meet yours and you know what my heart is saying

Je t'aime
I am home

As we sit down to our dinners,
as we open our romance books,
people die.

We sip our water;
their guts spill open.
We study our notes;
their planes crash.

We live;
they die.
We breathe;
they suffocate.

We are testaments to chance,
to luck, to possibility.

We are not products of God.

We are blind goats trotting on our path
before we perish, suddenly,
and vanish into death.

if it wasn’t you,
my eyes could be your usual blue.
instead they pour,
more than an ocean could ever hold.
if you only could be told.
maybe then i wouldn’t be such a mess.
something one could never never access.
a mind full of dream,
you’ve seem to put there too
if it wasn’t you.

a.b.

it feels like pulling fabric out of drawers
and none of it fits
last night, you put everything in the dryer
and fell asleep while
the things you thought you knew
tumbled and knotted and turned into
an unfamiliar mess

it feels like a bumblebee landing on your shoulder
you’re supposed to stay still
and wait for it to move on
until it realizes you are not a flower
it doesn’t
it stays and buzzes in your ear until
you turn to dust or learn to scream

but then, one day
it’ll feel like waking up to
rays of sun through the window
when you haven’t slept in weeks

like forgotten pocket change
like a present on your half-birthday
like an entire april without rain

and it’ll feel like
it was always there—
you’d just forgotten
to turn the light on