Everyone knows you can make eye contact with glass as long as the lines are dark enough.
Lines. Not cracks.
You know the kind of lines that you only stare at because they're actually the scars on the side of a ******* addicts ***.
She talks about how thin she is
and looks down at her naked body
right where my eyes had been lingering throughout our conversation.
the fast paced dribble
seemed to only drain her more
and I couldn't help but listen.

We had the same color hair

She's the only one that caught my eye that night,
she was entertaining
and beautiful
and rotting
in the two feet of distance that kept us from touching.

You could tell by the way she opened the refrigerator door
that she doesn't like to eat,
and the shaking in her hands made you want to ask if she was okay.

Love:

the way the wind opens loose doors
a response whispered from eye to eye
my bleeding finger tips in your mouth
water: earth: fire: air: soaked in poison,
and completely fine.

I shouldn't have to think this hard to say how I feel,
but now that I know that you listen to what I say
I hide and stare at ceilings to avoid confrontation
because even though your back feels good,
I'd like to keep my pockets safe.

you're moonlight at 3am
and clouds inside on a rainy day.
you're a staircase in space
leading nowhere.

I'd rather be a stack of spoons than a pile of forks and knives.