there is a part of you i know—

and already love

the part that sits me up on your bed and tells me stories of

yourself with bright brown eyes and

luscious lips

takes me as a whole pill in the

middle of the night

silently collapsing on top of me

( not ripping or tearing)

just softly removing

abstract pieces of my hips

and stuffing them like orchid petals

in your hands

that is the part i understand and can communicate with exceptionally well

that is the part i consume

day after day when you’re no

longer around

but there is another part—

full of questions and concerns

and blank expressions in the middle of

the day watching football

drinking beers and not wanting

to ignite the magical chemistry

the sensuality you possess most of the

time when no one is there

and you are laughing so loud and

talking about things i don’t know

anything about and your

bright brown eyes turn into

silver wings and i’m trying trying

trying trying to keep up

steadily

but i get lost in your sea of

child like gestures and weak

thoughts; in your attempts to

make me eat food and smile on

que; in your belly where the guilt

sets in for something you know i

did not do;

in you,

without strong hands and

heavy eyelids without come heres

and delicate kisses without

these things the days pile up

and taste like

rubbing alcohol