it's not quite summer and i feel like a fridge
holding on to every fruit and tomato lying around,
protecting them from the harsh rays of the sun
keeping them fresh away from the annoying flies lazing around the kitchen

store all your greasy little remnants of food in my belly,
give me all your forgotten leftovers,
no gift is a waste to me, pretty fridge that i am, I'll cherish them all like cold little treasures.

and when i get *****, when the glass stops being shiny,
the stains like flower fields on every single one of my walls,
the colors or the fruits not so sweet anymore,
i know that i won't be pampered, won't be held precious like an infant,
the plates will still be stacked, the paint will still peel off,
i feel like that summer fridge, yes,
unable to help myself.

in the cities at night,
only few wander,
we took a risk then, right ?
a one time wonder,

so close to your hand,
but i didn't dare touch it,
said i'd loved you and
wasn't quite the right fit.

looking at the ground,
you admitted the secret,
took a while to be found,
shooed under your carpet

you'd loved me just the same,
and hadn't really stopped since,
couldn't stay quite so tame,
made me feel like a prince.

in this city that night,
we were the few to wander,
didn't take the risk then, right ?
but no longer we wonder.

i was too exhausted to ask you for comfort,
just wanted to sleep in my bed and
forget that the day was beautiful and
still i felt unhappy,
still slumber just wouldn't take me.

yet my chest thanked you in the night when it soared and i
could feel your arms
like a feeble protection over me,
your body pressed to mine
to guard me,

i was glad to be loved by you
in this tender lonely night,
just happy to be a we.

sometimes it just feels wrong, being me,
what am i again ?
my own one million dollar question
after all these roads and broken ankles,
trying to fit in, then out, then
getting stuck.

ended up sitting on the curb,
for months, waiting
maybe time will chose for me,
cause my wishes will be ripped from my hands,
any way.

i sit, and my bones are crooked
from all the stress
and its agony,
i sit, and
i wonder
tomorrow, can i even just 𝘣𝘦 ?

how long has it been since you've been feeling lonely
probably a few days
probably since you were born
lonely or lonesome, i read once, both are very different,
i think i can't accept to be more than one, i create
the **** curve
not where it starts, that is the hand of God or maybe simply
the hands of others
but i make it end.

i need to leave before
you touch too close to home, before you see the cracks
in the ceiling - there's many, but the paint is fresh always
i am happy, i am so happy,
i feel so crushed,
they both overlap,
i need to be hidden away in a cave like a
dead something, maybe a rabbit, he got lost on the way
and the winter took him for himself,
i am the rabbit and the winter and the cave and
i am lonesome, as all three.

my body and my hands and my body again and my hands again
and the mess above them who tells them how to act and to feel,
they come back and hunt me always
in texts and dreams
i want my body to be
loved
i crave it so bad and it will never go
away, the craving, but
i'm so afraid of it
this body
why is it so weird
to be a body ?
if you touch me, if you
rub my back when it gets sore, if your hands are a bit
too kind to my skin,
i will crumble to pieces. one piece then
just pieces, now,
not like i am broken, i amn't
yet you could unmake me,
like a dream that's been alive for too long,
and suddenly the pieces of it disappear
why do they
disappear ?
because the dream was too slow ! it was too long to settle
like this body exactly
so long in the making, in the accepting too, in the lovin'
the dream furniture
becomes lands, becomes earth, the dream people's faces
change,
my body will also
morph
but can i.. can i like this dream
can i accept the dream body, the real piece of work body,
the me inside it,
to be loved ?
i don't really get it the loving part,

i'm good at it, the loving part.
i've been in love all my life
with things and words and dreams and the changes in people's
faces that i know by heart,
the way his smile gets pointy,
the way he runs to your room when he's happy, like
a child on christmas,
like,
a boy i'm in love with.
i want a body with you
isn't that so ******* scary ?
i want the ****
showers together, i want the kind hands, i want
the laughter in my neck,
all the ****** attention
i want it

i'm so lonesome
i would take it from anybody but i won't ! i won't
i dont want to feel like a liar, taking from
others who love
but i don't, i don't love you the same,
i don't understand your feelings so i assume and i say
"they're not the same, they're not"
and i leave ! i leave before i understand
because understanding is knowing,
knowing is acting
acting is so ******* tiring
i need you to
deattach your hands so they can be sewed right on mine,
i need you to
read every **** poem i made about you,
i need me to breathe, a lot

a whole storm
breathed.
i need air. i need to be alone, not lonesome ! not lonely !
alone
i need to
let you have all my love, and let you have all my loving,
and then i'll create one all for me
a good, tough, sweet love, a nice cocktail, sparkly
and young
all for me !
drank by my own **** body, even
held by
my own **** hands, even !
wants and needs and all this work i haven't done, and all
this amour propre
i'm forgetting.

i don't love myself.
someday,
i will.