you are lazy like a sunday and irrevocable like my mistakes

you go slow with me because the burns on my body are still fresh

“you’re so sentimental”, i whisper as you fill every crack in me, like cement

you dug a whole in the dirt and told me to bury my past right there

and you watched as i filled the ground with fires and nightmares

when you tell me you love me, i know what you are talking about

my skin lifts away and my bones ache from the bareness when you look at me

you write vignettes out of the ashes of your cigarettes

and your body burns up like a building

the looks you give me leave paper cuts on my flesh

and your slightest glance will skin my knees

like a withering flower i will die in february air

smothered by the lingering smoke of unwritten prose

when words rip from your chest like new year’s explosions

i kiss your lips and tell you to write them down