he was a sweet talker and I drowned in the honey
wrote songs about what we'd wanted, disillusioned me
with a one-sided duet
used to tell me it's ok to drink away pain, that it could
fix this damage done
I was stuck in the state of dreaming, hypnotised by his
unchained melody-
"wouldn't you want it to be easier, be with someone who
treats you well?" he asked,
drawing a deceptive halo above his head
when he was the one who only wanted to drag me into his bed

-c.j.

the first time we touched was
the coinciding of many lives
though I only felt purely my own
it may have been the crashing of
the hardest of hearts,
forming holograms that shine with infinity
but my heart felt soft as it finally reached yours,
and stayed there, finally home

-c.j.

I want to go home, all of this slipping around
feels like wobbly knees and ice skates
fate is pressed in a book whose prologue reads,
it'll get you there
to think that this volume is caged under
the slab of frozen rink
inspires more homesickness,
and my eyes blink and blink

-c.j.

any number divided by itself is one
it's two of us on the run, running for cover
as gods left and right and up and down yell
"take it or leave it," our pulses triple
to the number we divided by itself

-c.j.

"take me to church," the con man said
and I agreed to it, as I was yet to see
his feignness, his shrouded cloud cast
over the sunny afternoon
I thought I was moving on, getting somewhere,
but I was chasing reflections of someone
I thought I knew,
trapped in a mirror's maze until winter

-c.j.

all because a girl afraid chose to be brave-
refused to ignore her intuition,
saw beauty in every little thing,
divinity in patterns,
the intrinsic god in everyone

but you fail to ask what came before-
this was a long time coming,
and it was filled with lofty cries and
sunken amethyst days
until the girl said, "meet me somewhere,"
nice was the only word spoken to describe her
she has become brave in the face of a thousand fears

-c.j.

the night has opened my eyes
I see each symbol and number in my deck
from your pack of cards
when I'm small I count my total
and when I can't wake up I realise
love is not a dream

I truly fell for the boy with a thorn
in his side
I am rapt during our every car ride
"you don't have to wake up every morning thinking,
last night I dreamt that somebody loved me"

we breathe the truth without resistance
our clubs and spades and diamonds and hearts
are more vivid than before
the night has opened your eyes
please don't close them when morning comes

-c.j.