trying to call you back to me,
like summoning a spirit,
youre the only ghost i want to be haunted by.

i thought i knew what love was,
dishing it out spoonfuls at a time,
overflowing the gravy bowl 
right onto the table.
it leaks through the tablecloth,
staining the wood brown black
turning into mold and rot
leaving a hole big enough
for a person to just slide right through
get your dress hiked up,
slide it right off and get fucked,
scrapes and scratches and scars,
and staring up through that hole
like you can see the stars through the ceiling
it's just nothingness out there, anyway
just empty abyss,
just keep your gravy in the pot,
let it burn to ash. 

god has a funny sense of humor,
thoughts in your head by the thousands
but you cant string them out in a straight line 
begging for love and just like a genie
he grants your wish, but at a cost you hadn't considered.

i love you.

it was an afternoon love affair,
with a plastic spoon,
sweating inside a car that
smells like stale coffee. 
tear drops forming,
it's too early to cry.
it's too fucking early to cry.

poetry is red wine and rum,
your words dancing around me 
like butterflies in the dawn
youre the girl i think about
you say, and you fold into me
like the way chocolate chips fold
into cookie dough batter,
baked to perfection, 
i love you, you say
ive loved you for so long, i whisper
ive always known this moment existed
suspended in time somewhere
waiting for us to reach it,
and here we are.
its poetry, i swear. 

everywhere i turn,
there you are.
haunting me like a fucking ghost,
haven't you done enough?
why am i good enough to fuck,
but not good enough,
for anything else? 
and why the fuck do i love you
so much it takes my breath away. 
rest, already, please,
just let me be.
let me be.

hi, yes, hello,
i like reading and plants
thanks for asking,
do you want to see them
thanks for letting me show you.
im probably going to go for a run.
hanging at my moms, you? 
hi, how was your weekend?
hi, how are you? 
hi! i love to hike.
here are my favorite places.
do you want to actually go sometime? 
silence. 

you can love yourself to death,
but it's still awful lonely 
talking to yourself. 
excitement, nothing but an echo.