i love you but, i bought a house and forgot (i mean didn't) tell you, and also, i love you but, i didn't ask you to the dance. i love you but, she left her panties at my place. i love you but, i can't call you (i won't call you) i love you but, i never bought you a christmas present. i love you but, i can't be with you (because im stuck) i love you but, im too busy. too hurt. too. i love you but, i dont like touching you and why don't you do the dishes. i love you but, i don't want to kiss you. i love you but, im leaving because i care about you. i love you, but you're not invited, because you're not allowed to come (because she will be there and obviously we're fucking and how come you didn't see it) i love you but you're too much. i love you but, you need too much (even though you never asked for anything) i thought i knew what love was i thought i did, but maybe i just know what it isnt.
if i was a pitcher,
i would be empty.
i would be glass falling,
shattering to the floor.
gray eyes, soft like a old sweatshirt you wear to football games and for curling up on the couch in the rain. gray like the rain falling from the sky warm like the sun, shining on top of a mountain just before noon. gray the haze over the sea, wispy fog drifting through the overpass gray like the softest parts of the night. gray has never been so beautiful to me.
it has been too long since you have been in my bed - my soul craves you like the ocean is drawn to the sand you are the moon pulling me in waves, out to sea i go, with only the stars in your eyes to guide me, too long, since i have felt my feet on the shore, it is no matter, i will wait.
i ask myself, over and over am i the idiot here? am i a fool for ignoring your attempts to shove me away? am i romanticizing something never meant to be romanticized? is this a real, true story? or is this a narrative that i have created? i don't know what the answer is.
teach me how to love you. let me learn the ways that you drown in tenderness. is it a caress, deep in the night? is it silence, and thought? is it time? or offerings? tell me, beautiful soul, how can i love you so that you never forget.
i have been in the place that you are,
where the world seems upside down,
and the ache in your chest seems unending.
you are not something to be fixed,
but you are someone to be loved.
all the pieces of you, the hurt ones
and the ones that are strong and beautiful
and the ones that you are still figuring out.
someone else’s pain should never be
used as ammunition —
you are safe with me.
i am going to love you, relentlessly.
and if you decide that you can’t be loved
in this way, then so be it,
but i will not love you less because you are afraid.
you are the sun warming my face while i sit precariously on the edge of some far away tall place. and you are the smell of rain in summer musky and sweet and calm. you are a house - built with strong bones and a kitchen that smells inevitably like coffee and warmth. you are blue and green and gray like the sea. soothing and beautiful, filled with mystery, still. you are laughter and safety, a joke poised on pursed lips and light so bright the sun is only a dark smudge. you are are music and dancing spinning in time with mother earth; melodies that i hope i hear forever.
its 1 am and some change, and you're dancing with me, round and round and round, we're spinning in slow motion drunk on red wine and jager and whatever the fuck this is - this thing with you that has me so high, i can see the ocean from the sky and its the blue in your eyes and i could drown, happily suffocated by a sea of blue and gray. i am interested. you are very pretty. you say. youre so gorgeous. i say. this will always be ours, this laughter in the earliest parts of a new day and even if this is all there is. the things that have lived inside my head tumble out in spirals and you just let it flow over you this waterfall of words and you take it so easily like this wave is not too much.
who’s body is this? i ask
when i see the stranger in the mirror
looking so fly.
where did you come from?
do you live here too?
who’s body is this?
who’s body is this,
filling out these jeans
like a night sky
wraps around lovers
talking softly on a beach.
who’s body is this?
it can’t be mine.
but it is.