Some days are just better than others
because you are an angel
and I am the harbor-er of sin.
My religion
is your deep brown eyes
and the way my name rolls off your tongue.
I love you
but you are not medicine.
My sadness is so heavy
that I can't keep my eyes open
but it won't let me sleep either.
Your hands memorized my hips
more than your eyes ever have
and someone once said
"your essence is like a rainbow after a thunderstorm
and your palms were meant for creating things
that'll last longer than your earthquakes"
but the nights are longer
than the days should allow
even though it's brighter out the later it gets.
It may be spring
but I need more than warmth
to get me out of bed.