I want to forget you
and this romance
but it’s hard when
a million butterflies
attack my ribcage
and my stomach
and my brain;
like they’re searching
for flowers in my heart
and only you know
where they are.

These words that fill my mouth
Have nothing to do with what I
Wanted to say  ~


Can we listen to the wind of the past?

The words run through my veins
innate to me like blood.
Thick, gooey flowing through my head;
my body.
Like when a nurse takes blood to save lives,
I bleed my words onto the paper to save myself.
To save others.
The way a person needs a pint of blood,
I need a poem.
I need words to give me hope.
Words, words,
words.

I said "no"
you kept going
I said "stop"
you said "I'm almost done"
I said "It hurts"
you said "It feels so good"

Afterwards I sat there blank faced
and you had the audacity to ask me if I was ok.
A shrug was all I could get out.

How could you do that to me?
Why would you do that to me?
How could I let you do that to me?
Why did I let you do that to me?

I wonder if you think of me
The way I'm thinking of you right now
Staring at pictures of you and me
Smiling
At the camera
Or at each other
The way your eyes would lock on mine
And tell me
Without ever saying anything
I love you

I wonder if you look back
On old forgotten messages on your phone
Or if you deleted them
Just right after
You deleted me
From your heart
You would've found the first time
I confessed and said
You're special to me
And you replied with
I love you

I wonder if you still remember
The sound of my voice
Because I still remember yours
And I hear it every night
As clearly as if
You were still right beside me
Holding me tight
On nights when I had trouble sleeping
Whispering in my ear
I love you
And only you

Only you
Meant
Only you were wrong
Because you didn't
Love
Only me

Only now
I wonder if you ever loved
Only me

I will explore every inch of you.
I'll entangle the distance between
your lips with the dance of my tongue.
I'll count your ribs and locate
your vertebrae with my lips.
I'll smear my auric hands all over your body.
I'll paint you like a poem and
write you like a painting.
I'll form nebulas on your back
and study the origin of light
in your eyes.
I'll study the ontology of your laughter.

This is what I promise you;
not to love you, but learn all that you are.