And though love is a drunk, sleeping off its hangover in the gutters between the years, you need to smile at the bitch anyway.
When I look up at night, all the constellations look like you.
You see suns that never were and stare at skies that don't exist. You listen to songs that were never played and read books that were never written. And your mind is so beautiful and full. But I'm glad it's not mine.
I'm sure you've met them. They say they’ll put you back together while they’re tearing everything apart. And they use the type of lips you can taste for years.
I have spoken to the rest of the world and we all feel sorry for you. Because we get to look at you but all you have to look at, is us.
Gasping for air and sanity. Moon and stars and clouds and night. Out of breath and breathless. Pillows and sheets and blankets and you. I will drown in this bed. They say it’s just like going to sleep.
I want to weave you into me. Stick your thorns in and grow. Bleed sap and feel this shining light. Grow strange leaves. Bear this fruit. Share this soil. Bury ourselves. Reach for the sun. Strip this bark. Carve a name and a heart into me. Please.
Home 
