I know I’m happy and that’s when
words escape me. Slips
past me, I’m so fucking light.
So fucking full of air and warmth.
Best part of my day is
sighing into your mouth.
Best part of my day is feeling okay,
I’m going to die one day
but fuck it I’m human,
hope you’ll be by my side.
I read between the
lines of your body movements.
you is a string, pulling me
into the center.
I know what this looks like
on paper. I do not mean
to hurt you. Yet
intentions only go so far.
I hope you stay away from the
paper cuts of my words
and thoughts. Know I do not
say them to be cruel. Though
it’s okay if you think I’m cruel.
This chest has started to buzz
and I know what this looks like
on paper. Karma never skips me,
does that make you happier?
The only consolation prize I have
I light the trash on fire.
Toss it into a can.
Hold still as flames breathe.
The curtains are on fire.
I’ll say I don’t know how it happened.
Can you believe this statement to be true?
Does it matter if I’m being honest?
I go to your house and together
we live inside your room. Sometimes
I think you’re too good for me and
I’m just being selfish.
I watch the flames.
I hate the heat but I want
to stay. Watch how fast before
the rooms on fire. Your body is a
home I’ve never been in. So yes
it’s scary but we both know
it’s never the fire that kills you.
I’ll ask you to stay. I’ll say I don’t know
how it happened. Both statements are true.
I want your hand in mine
I spend a lot of time looking at
the ground, look
for spots I could curl into.
The warm grass at parks, the sides of
a road, a field I could disappear into.
(The corners of your arms.)
Why is gravity always so heavy?
Loving me straight into
the ground. I can’t stop
looking at the ground.
I dont even know if I was here today,
I almost hit a car today.
I’m clawing myself out,
I just don’t know from what or where.
I think about hiding a lot,
more then I want to admit.
The lights are always too bright,
what I mean is sometimes I don’t want
to exist. Everything feels like a crawl,
feels like bruised knees.
Then there’s you, the warmest thing
I want to sink into.
I hope to god you can swim.
A picture in and I am
already seeing the universe
in everything. Some times I
can’t decide if everything
is a miracle or if nothing is.
My days tend to blur and every day
is learning what it means
to be alive.
Do you ever look at your hands?
I know my lover’s hands more than
my own. What does that say about me?
I stare at my palms. When does recognition
become less and less?
I’m back in the hallway where
the elderly lady showed me her
hands. Soft wrinkled flesh.
Flips them back to palm and says
“When did this happen?”.
She laughs but I am stuck in the moment
You made me
cum so hard
I swear to god
is now something
I can say I
Notes on my tongue,
Lace my sighs and smiles together
when I think about it.
Kindling wood heart,
is just right.
I strike a match trying to
catch what a spark sounds like.
I’m trying to find the exact moment,
not that it matters now.
On the floor I see the once
pinned fortune cookie paper.
It’s a dumb piece of paper that I’ve kept.
What does it matter what pulls us forward?
I watch the pieces of my life rearranging,
it’s a picture that almost makes sense. I
just have to get there, have to wait for the
“fall into place”, for the dust to settle.
Even now I listen for the sounds
you hear as you push in a piece
just where it belongs.
Reassurance has weight in my hands.
We imagine the things we need,
what does it matter, what keeps
our feet moving on?
Three months from that date,
I’m counting down. I’m a sucker for
things that aren’t real like fate, like
gentle waves of air in the shape of a
hand, sent from something bigger.
I place the paper back on the cork board.
I ask July to be kind.
Playing with the physics of our
bodies in your bedroom.
We use key instruments of self,
adding friction, adjusting pressure and
temperature in search of
Perfect conditions. Tightly wound
body made soft by your hands.
When you feel the vibrations
keep going. Changing states
of matter on your sheets.
Pressure turned higher, heated to the
boiling point. Melting.
Bodies favor the existence of desires.
Reach the center,
baby right now we are stars
and you’re in the core of me.
Can you feel my heat?
The sun has nothing on me.
Tell me I make you burn.