the problem with us is that I have always loved you like you were leaving,
always left the door unlocked, like you might stagger into bed drunk with a few
different names on your tongue
in the spaces between breath, I love you, I love you
in the out breaths, I love you, I love you
in the inhales, I love you, I love you
maybe someday, I say when you're not looking
when you're not looking I think about how we have never looked out the same window twice
how it keeps me awake, that you and I will never be more than a story told to children
about the dangers of loving without breathing and breathing without sleeping,
I'm not sorry I lose sleep over you
the only thing apologetic about me is my mouth
and also my hands
and also my heart.
the problem with us is that you never believe me when I say that you deserve so much more
than lately
I'll go to my grave thinking you deserve firework eyes over dinner tables and hands
that hold more than they shake
you deserve a girl who is not more hero than honest
you deserve more than a good storyteller
the problem with us is that we settle for half way, never look both ways before crossing the street,
never care enough to anticipate a red light
you don't know the color of my eyes
some days I'm convinced the light's gone from them,
some days I'm convinced it's in your hands.