the numbness in my hands
is almost made up for
by the clean, frosted air

it's now that i think of you
maybe
tracing your skin
uneven with the chill. or my touch.

i don't mind that your hands are warm
somewhere else

you're mine where it counts

since you told me what you
think about death,
the smell of apples,
and god

i want your
unevenly trimmed nails to brush
the back of my neck
as you scream secrets
without words

i want you to read me
understand without thinking
we could move together;

if i were strong, and
if i could show you,
you would see that
i pretend a gentle rhythm
possess a rough soul

*i don't know yet what you hide

i like the way you move

absorbing discarded sunbeams
like

the universe can't help but

acknowledge you
above your grin,
there's ferocious, burning, terrified intent
the sparkle in your eyes

I can't deal with you if you're so limp that I can feel the burn it makes when I look at you. I say it over and over and over and over, "You're allowed to start things," and "You can have an opinion."

If you'd like to be a loose feather, submissive to every sway of god's breath, keep being so ******* easy to walk on.

There was a time when I ached to know your thoughts so I could love you. I laugh at how ridiculous that would be. I can't love someone who can't fight.

it wasnt real

the words i felt then
are still with me

parasitic reminders
screaming
over and over
i didnt matter

I.
not daily

yet
tucked in safely, i'll think of
your thin hands tarnished by the gleam

of something that isn't mine

i know sometimes you wish it's scent were

my skin

of my thoughts

of my irking admiration

a badge; one you'll never wear
'cause you ****** it up, buddy

i hope her gawking mouth makes you feel adequate

that you're safe. deluded
her touch is the one that saves you
and makes you feel complete