how many people have told you

they love you and in how many

languages how many beds

and moonlights and decades of life

when you're out, tell your lucky one to know that you'll leave.

but don't lock when you're fleeing, i'd like not to hear keys.

only hold 'til your coffee warms, but don't hurry and speed.

one time put a tongue in your ear in the beach, and you clutched kicking heels.

screw poetry, it's you i want, your taste, rain on you, mouth on your skin

buy me a ring that will turn my finger green

so i can imagine our love is a forest

remembering when it all changed, remembering when i was low and when i was above the clouds, remembering how it felt to be wrong and right and messed up and just fine and everything in between, everything, everything, everything.

and i'm trying to write it all down, trying to keep track of every detail, every fragment of a memory that slips through my mind is being written down.

right now i remember that car. i remember that cold, metal wall covered in bad teenage graffiti. i remember that garage, that hockey net that doubled as a table for five minutes in time. i remember that bed, that fucking bed. i remember that balcony, and the lights in the city, and the feeling of being trapped and free at the same time.

i didn't expect any of these moments but they changed me one way or another.

i'm going back to them. i'm documenting them. i'm finally doing something important to me.

"you're in a relationship because you need help, but that's not necessarily why you should be in a relationship. and that's skinny. it doesn't have weight. skinny love doesn't have a chance because it's not nourished."

not a whole lot to do tonight, green tea with lemon, tallest man on earth, and everything i never thought i'd write about someone all crammed into one hard cover moleskine. i have had a beautiful weekend.

i hate that i can't accept anything more than the worn out soles of my shoes

in your arms there is nothing left but water and even that will slip through your fingers soon. i just want to remember all the little details, the ones you thought were insignificant. one day we'll wake up somewhere far away from this city and from these people and we'll be in a different bed. the light will pour in and the morning will be hazy and warm and our fingers will have dried from the water residing in them now, but although we may not be as restless or young as we are now too, our hearts will beat the same.

late last night

i know you're falling asleep but let me come closer and tell you i love you again before you dream your way to noon tomorrow. it's 3:10 am, we are one day away from 8 months, and i'm still finding new ways to fall for you over and over.

it is all up to you

i remember how it felt to be destroyed and torn apart piece by piece inch by inch until we were nothing but a pile of bones. nothing in common, nothing, just wanting to delve into something deeper than skin. fingers spread like roots on a dirty mattress but they didn't do it for me, i felt lost but i let the thought slide down my dry throat. cold, i felt so cold, there was so much space between us, but i needed it to be that way, i couldn't let anything be too warm, if the temperature were to rise then i would burst. i hated myself for letting it be this cold, i needed a fucking sweater, but i couldn't bring myself to find one. the selfish parts in me took over and i accepted the cold, i shivered and shook and my bones lay out on display and all i wanted after was redemption and enough words in the english language to make up for this mess of bones.

is this the right mountain for us to climb?

is this the way to live for you to be mine?

is this the right river for us to ford?

is this the way you live for me to be yours?

is this the way to live for me to be yours?

is this the way to live?

is it wrong to want more?

she was extending a hand that i didn't know how to take, so i broke its fingers with my silence

the days go by slowly and the nights are even longer

and my head hurts all the fucking time

i'm just trying to get through this week

at least that's what i keep telling myself

you give me a summer rose-red and

still nothing tastes as sweet as your name

on a streetcar ad this morning

it's almost winter.

ice will make all the distances that much further.

kiss now. speak now.

before the river freezes altogether.

nothing better than you beside me with a cool blue light washing over your face because we went to bed at four in the morning but at ten past seven we're still awake learning there's still some things we can discover about each other