sometimes you say
i have oceans in my eyes.
not once have I thought
that so.

my eyes are thin
and grey;
they are no "silver lining".

the green that lines them
is not seaweed,
but the mold of a past
mess.

you have told me my eyes
are reflective.
but they simply harbor the
colors of lonely skies
and mismatched loves.

you have described beauty
and freedom
within my irises.


but I can't see them
unless there's a layer
of glass between.

i don't see the oceans.
so how can i know they're real?

the clock doesn't move
on these sort of nights
when the yearning
to be in your arms
is the strongest

my arms are buried
in the lime green sleeves
of the shirt that smells
of your skin

my skin turns the purple-yellow
of your affections

my affections for you
are bottomless

bottomless thoughts of you

the brick lining
of my fist-sized heart

is all crumbling
on the outside.

but the foundation
is sound.

my "I love you"s
are solid--

genuine--

and my "I miss you"s
are sad.

my roof is
shingle-less

and my windows are
shattered,

but I feel every bit
of us

with my soul.

my skin crawls,
i can't help but write.
to you and her and my mother.
“i loved you"
i can't help but write

i can't help but paint
"i loved you"
onto my head and heart.
i can't help but paint

i can't help but sigh.
onto my head and heart,
i dispel the warm wickedness

i say "I fell in love with you"
to you and her and my mother.
i fall in love with other humans:
my skin crawls.