They always say
that the drunk words
are sober thoughts
and I guess for me and you
that is true
We say things to each other whilst
drunk
that we would never say if we were
sober
and why is it that
Is it my fault or is it yours
maybe it's both of our faults
and our fear of feeling something
that is actually real
something that's so much bigger than both of
us

I used to romanticize chases:
the sweet gestures,
the undeniable want to get something –
someone, anyone
the unconscious submission for love –
lust, want

I used to romanticize being chased:
something –
someone following my every breath
someone forcing himself for my love –
lust, want
someone who wouldn’t give me up

someone proving that I am neither wrong
nor right
someone giving me the privilege of wanting
tomorrow
someone constant, someone
just someone

I never thought that consistency
will soon become undone,
that the only constant thing in one’s life
will soon go back to ashes,
that willingness and love –
lust, want,
will soon disappear
like he did

I used to romanticize the chase:
the everyday with gifts and kisses,
the unconditional pain it will deal you,
the reassurance that you will never have.

I used to romanticize the chase,
but I never thought that
I'd be the one who
*chases.

Do I inspire or am I dire?
Amusing or just boring.
Oh humph you say and turn away
Good gracius, are you snoring?
I really thought that you would have
a little understanding-but all you say is go away
and don't be so demanding!
If that's the case old funny face,
there will be no nights of passion,
until your churlish ways improve
in a politer fashion!

we are blossoming now.
scarlet petals unfurling;
revealing our golden hearts.

and i want you to know
that my love grows best
when its roots entwine with yours.

I.
I should probably get some sleep
3am is not a time for pouring out sorrows onto paper
The morning is too young and the stars too bright

II.
I should be dreaming of
blue eyes and summer nights
Instead I am writing of old heartbreaks
and drowning in my fifth cup of coffee

III.
My mother reckons I should get some sleep
When she finds me in the morning
Lights on, slumbering into the warm keyboard
And grocery bags under my eyes
Big enough that I stumble trying to lift them

IV.
I should probably get some sleep
When my thoughts start to get obscene
And I am dialing numbers that I shouldn’t be
But sometimes I find it difficult
To lie down in a peaceful rest
When I don’t know if there’s anything worth waking up to