i’m measuring my life out in the amount of

breathes it takes me to say i love you

and i’m becoming fond of the taste of

your tastebuds and i seem to dream too much

and never wake up.

and in my dreams i write novels and i’m 

looking for answers on what to name my chapters.

a few months ago i named chapter seventeen
*
Clarice* because i swore someone was leaving me

clues on where to search next but everything was jumbled

together and mismatched like a pair of parents

who hate each other and argue in the night so that their innocent child does not have to hear a word of what god told them.

lay next to me, sweet angel; stay for the night, i will show

you what a home is like next to the snowfall of december.