The cut on my inner palm.

It reminds me of the night you told me that
you thought we'd be better off going on our own paths,
and how my blood didn't seep as deeply into life's cloth
as your longing for someone new was aching above the surface.

I am a paper girl with words on my skin and ink in my veins
I am a open book with stories to be told and secrets inside
I am a god of words with rhymes in my heart and a healing song
I am a comforting touch with a soft hand and a light peck on the cheek
I am a poet and with passion I enlighten the world with my resolution

I search for: your smile across the room, the furrow in your brows when you concentrate, your reassuring words of wisdom.
Is it wrong that I want to tell you all my deepest darkest secrets?

I long for: you touch below the table, your hands on mine in secret, your head on my shoulder.
Is it wrong that I want it to be something more?

I dream of: your eyes looking into mine, the way you run your hands through your hair, your chuckle in between jokes.
Is it wrong that all I want to do is feel your lips on mine?

I love: the way you drink your tea, how you are so incredibly kind to everyone, and you, you, you.
Is it wrong that I love you?

you are so lovely in your wicked ways
you are heavy
i can feel it, so can the room

everyone is waiting for that pause
the one you find yourself existing in

you are so lovely in your wicked ways
finding the quirks
the imbalanced romanticism in their dialect

'yeah, i’m a southern boy'
the kind you swore you’d stay away from

you spent too many nights with knights at rogue water
underage but over your limit

oh boy, that patagonia
slinging country song quarters into the jukebox

take me home!

you are so lovely, even in your wicked ways

do you like country music?
he turns left for the freeway
do you know how to drive stick shift?

you are so lovely, even in your wicked ways
i didn’t fold her laundry
she left my XXL t-shirts without wrinkles
pink, without wrinkles

you are so lovely in your wicked ways
he mixes a couple of drinks for you
reaches to grab your hand from across the bar
seared by the tea-light candle

i waltzed out of that bar like i had him
he is small and beautiful with a temper
i could love him all while hating him

i’m just a gal whose nose bled
after falling into his bed (more than once)
more than once