sometimes i hear your laughter in my head and it sends shivers down my spine
it’s two am and i’ve lost count of all the ways to say “i love you” with the swell of panic throbbing in my throat, my chest
i love you and i’m not ready to try again
i love you and i’m not sure about the proximity, how much distance i need to keep so adoration doesn’t devolve into dispute
i love you and i can’t quite figure out the ways in which i do
i love you

it’s half past two
there’s a war trapped behind the bars that jail these flower spitting sponges i call lungs
and someone is dangling the key a touch too far out of reach, my heart a nervous flutter of don’t-break-in and
wow-your-head-feels-right-on-my-chest even if i can’t breathe properly
i have roses in my windpipe and my lips are stained rouge
you’re playing loves me, loves me not with the thorns clenched between my teeth

we swapped slurry sentences in a smoke garden haze and
i remember the exact path from your brow to your mouth, travelled by my wanderlusting eyes
the shape of it slotting sweetly against mine, nicotine and gin and the relief of feelings freed
so now, in sober sunlight, away from drunken darkness, i am afraid

your eyes hold storms of unspoken conclusions that you’ve yet to say
but my anxiety has already heard and i am afraid;
when i shift my centre of gravity to sit down to earth with you, lines of my body aligned with yours
the unyielding firmness of your limbs makes my head ache and i am afraid

i look at you and fret that all those feathery words, softly spoken and taboo
were just old thoughts, splintered fragments of a past affection reminisced into a fantasy by one too many and close proximity,
just retired comforts woken from sleep in the wake of recent heartbreak