On the balcony
Wrapped in a blanket of humid darkness
It is almost pure the way
I melt into the wall
I see the glowing ember of a
crumpled cigarette in the distance.
And I imagine myself,
a bird with feathers
Sharp as razor blades
cutting through the thick fog like butter.

Tonight
I am above the city,
and the lights swallow me whole.

I do not know how to love you in moderation.

My loneliness curls up next to you, falls softly asleep in your arms, and suddenly I am so light I could float away.

On Sunday mornings, I am a mug of hot tea, fragile and overflowing at the thought that in some other life, we are apart.

I do not know how to love you in moderation.

I imagine your cool fingertips tracing the back of my neck, and it doesn't matter that I don't know how.

Because it is in loving you, that I am home.

i am afraid of the unknown,
of losing you before ever having you.
but words slip through my fingers like water,
and i am a desert of longing.
hungry for the warmth
of your guarded, caramel eyes.
and the softness of your smile,
like snow falling on a frozen lake.
the sweet honey of your voice
sticks to my body like sweat,
and i am lost in you.

if this is love,
then I am yours,
and always have been.

I have tucked you away, behind dusty bookshelves and locked doors. And filled myself up with the past, to pretend that I am not made of stale air and longing.

It is the only place that is beautiful enough to write about, where the sunlight filters through the open window, and your arms wrap sleepily around my waist. Anchored in this reality, I walk the earth blind.

I write, bleeding and frenzied, to keep this place alive, because I am not ready to let go of the only world where you still love me.

And when insanity comes knocking on my door, I will welcome him with open arms and one thought,

"Oh, how I have missed you."

You are the love that came without warning.
It was almost pure
the way you unfolded my mind,
an origami flower
frozen in winter.

You left wrinkles
in my paper heart.
And I am softer from having loved you.

I lick the salt off my lips,
Pinpricked with vinegar.

I can feel the current
Smooth its navy hands,
Along my curved spine.

I am swallowed whole by you
Bittersweet
And wrapped in silence.
You are a breath of fresh air.

tell me

lying there,
open and bare on cool linen sheets,
are your thoughts innocent?

they lick the bare white of your ribs,
swirl around it's bone smooth edge,
and beg to be tamed

lean over your trembling, salty skin
and whisper sweetly in one ear,

is the blood rushing to your head?