I can feel myself slowly falling in love.

And why does falling in love feel like falling down a well? I wasn’t pushed, but I jumped and now I find myself clinging anything.

to the air, to the silence, to the fragments of vulnerability I have yet to tell you.

For who knows what will happen when I hit the ground?

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

Whatever a smiling ocean is
With its grin as wide as dunes
And its lips pressed to the moon
Walking with the creatures of the deep
Where magma crawls and the rocks creep
Through sandy meadows filled with reefs and scales
And a stormy shadow of sunken sails
You'll see the sun piercing through
Where all you can breathe is blue

Dear HP,

This is not a poem
But a question
The answer to which
I do hope you have

Why does my lover claim to love me
But still looks for every opportunity
To let me go?

Is it that she loves me so much
But doesn't think she's worthy of me

Or she doesn't love me enough
To think I'm worthy of her?

if they say a one-word poem,
i'll write your name...

The street is falling on me,
I am going up the sky,
I am free, I am finally free,
Oh my.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.