an open field and a rain of acorns,
angry squirrels that have no interest in calculus.
cold coffee and colder thoughts and worried that somehow,
i’ll walk home by myself.
keys and broken friendships and hats that have been sold --
a tiny bottle for millions of tiny bones
and Bones, looking for all the world
like something you couldn’t leave behind.
overpriced doorknobs and overpriced pizza and being able to laugh,
laughing in the face of something terrifying
and feeling sick and worried but once the gate’s open, the water rushes in
and you don’t know how to stop, let alone
how to begin.
you long for fingers intertwined, for soft admissions
and softer, still, even smooth glances
for black mail and power abuse and somehow,
in all this,
still being the sweetest feeling you think
you’ve ever experienced.