I had a heart
that was concrete like sidewalk
you had a voice like chalk

I swore I was going to
memorize your laugh
try to photograph
the way it would add color
to the grey gaps
where not even weeds would
dare to grow

it is too bad
chalk succumbs so easily
to rain.

Maybe the thumping of my heart had not matched
the clicking of your steps because only then would it
explain the havoc on the floor.
It's not your fault, I'm sorry;
it simply fell out of my sleeve and you trampled over it.
Nonetheless, I'm tripping over you once again
but all I find is the pavement to catch me as I fall.

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.

You were drawn to me
because I was a writer.
You didn't understand
that I write well
simply because I lie well.
Such is the art of storytelling.
I'm honestly sorry you had
to realize that
The hard way.

Last night, I dreamt that you died

And I woke with shaking lungs,
And lips of pale blue
My mind musing on if I wanted to continue breathing
If you were not breathing too.

beats droning so loud i can't hear my own laughter
i shake my head to myself
"how can it be this good?"
i just want to play all night
our skeletons will dance together