You know you're in
Love when she says
"goodnight" and
"I love you" and all
you wish to do is
pull her through the
screen and hold her
as close as possible,
just so she can feel the
warmth of your skin
and have the pleasure of
your heartbeat synchronizing
with hers.

I want to be welded to you like the tongue of a curious child freezes to a poll when it's below zero outside.

I'm sick of being of led on why do you remind me of him why do you remind me of him am I just paranoid or are you just another Nick Nick Jr. second edition Nick so many Nicks I can't even breathe because the air is Ni2O I still have that ***** and disgusting nickel that I bent down in the middle of the road to pick up and which nearly got me killed please tell me you're a beautiful copper penny because those don't exist anymore in my country but I crave them more than anything.

I hate living in this spread out town where I have to drive ten miles just to get to a bus that will drive for twenty additional ones just to get to Walgreen's to buy ******* soap to wash my mother's back because she can't wash it herself.

it feels like the blood inside my veins is moving like quick dry cement does ten hours after it's poured
simultaneously a storm brews in them
similar to how mom once brewed soup that tasted of distanced family and bile
bile which still resides in a clump at the back of my throat from the last time i said your name
you are he-who-shall-not-be-named since saying your name is as dangerous as saying Voldemort’s
monochromatic colour schemes make up my world, each day either tinted or shaded
usually shaded because I was told that dark colours are slimming and that thought never left my mind
rain smudges all of the pigments together and even my glasses can't correct my vision
i love rain but my rainbows are always brown-black
like those karate belts you had when you lived
or how she used to mix all of her playdoh together
i used to believe that she created the world that way
god i wish i was right.

my grades have dropped from nineties to seventies and i am incredibly sad.
my heart has been dropped down countless flights of stairs and i am incredibly bruised.
my body has dropped off of a balcony from thirteen stories high and i am incredibly gone.

yes,
i'm short,
and i know you can touch the sky while i can't.
why have you never offered me a seat on your shoulders, though?

yes,
i'm short,
however, i could do without you reminding me that nobody wants to draw the short straw.

yes,
i'm short,
but that doesn't mean you should absorb all of the sun as i shrivel up in your shadow.

yes,
i'm short,
yet i still like to feel like i am not.