You looked at me so bravely when you finally said it.
But I'd already been tracing the words on your skin for months.

When I gave you my hoodie, it was so you could see my heart on the sleeve.
Plus you were cold.
Now winter has thawed and summer is here, you don't want these arms anymore.

Sometimes I do things that,as a kid, I promised myself I wouldn't.
like forgetting to feed the dog
or lie
or trade in an adventure for light-up sneakers
But that's okay, because now I know better.
(Or at least I'm old enough to say it)
I don't make promises I can't keep,
I don't make any actually.
I don't shoot very high, anymore.
Really I spend most days looking down,
watching how gravity pulls.


I keep seeing light-up sneakers...

These words run
                        down
                            my
                              arm
Like ledger lines, bearing notes
between lovers
and friends
or both.
But no matter how the tune starts,
it always ends the same.
Final chords struck in empty apartments
filled to the
                     b
                  r
              i
         m
with burned out passion.
Just like the light bulb in your bedroom lamp,
that you've been meaning to change for 3 days.
At the end of the day
all that's left is the thrum of the ceiling fan
you forgot to dust two weeks ago.

For the nights my
eyes won't close,
pencil will scratch paper.
And if I'm lucky,
my mind as well.

When our skin touches,
it is arguably the closest to Heaven I will ever come.
But then you asked to see the book with all my words;
and I suddenly decided that
the mind is more sacred than the flesh.

And the words slipped from your mouth,
just like that little black dress you wore on Friday.
Almost like you were trying them on to see how they might fit,
between your mouth and mine.