Let’s just skim the
surface like mist, like
this haze that fades my
eyesight when you’re near me.
Let’s just catch eyes and hands
and pretend we don’t do this
together.
Let’s just lie.

Drowning in sunshine,
we are floating towards
oblivion, we don’t even care
what state we’re in, coz
we’re here amongst the clouds.
And gently, oh so gently ‘long the
surface of some heaven when
you notice we’re alone again,
they’re all down there and they
don’t care, just waiting, watching,
wishing they were us.

Sadness is blowing all across the sidewalks here. This town is an old scar, worn on the arms of too-tough teenage skinheads. I don’t belong here anymore.
I tried to become someone who fades into the background here, just another curly head in a sea of Texas hair, but I’m too different to be the same. I come from water, brownstones, and seasalt air. I don’t belong here anymore.
And so I write letters back to Boston and empty homesickness into little paper cups, saving it for later. I can be alright here, growing up and meeting people I could’ve never imagined, if I want it. The question is, do I? I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.

Did I ever?

We’re inches, seconds,
fragile moments apart
and I can feel the heat of your lips and
taste the beating of your heart.
We’re frozen, painted, suspended
in time- but I don’t care that
I can’t touch you as long as you’re still mine.

I found my old journal
and a chewed up black pen.
I’m going to black out every
“hate” and put in
some ”love” again.

My spine aches;
the spaces ‘tween my
vertebrae are screaming with
desire.
I long to feel your lips
trace the curve that dips above
my hips and travels towards
my shoulder blades. The dotted
line that only your mouth
can follow, leading your soft
whispers towards my
pale, awaiting ears.

The sound of a broken heart
isn't exactly what you'd expect.
No tinkling of shattered glass,
no tearing of cheap fabric-
Just that eerie, panicked silence
after the bomb of being wrong.