"You can't see my apartment, yet."
He tells me because he thinks his apartment is
too ***** for my eyes.
He doesn't know my mind is a dump that gets hauled
out to sea every day to try and make some space
for something, anything, other than trash.

He keeps saying he's going to want space but then ends
up in my apartment and holding my hair
and breathing me in like I'm
worth something
to him.

to me
he is that space
above the ocean where I can
breathe a pocket full of air that isn't poison
so of course I come knocking on his door with a smile.

Before he comes over I'm sure to clean out my head
because if his apartment is too messy for my eyes
-my eyes clouded with my thoughts, my
thoughts building up like city fumes
the city fumes bursting through the
atmosphere of my head like burning trash-
if his apartment is too messy for my eyes
then I can't ever let him
know my own mess.