I used to call myself a writer.

what’s happened to me?

i’ve been searching high and low for words to describe you-

a quote that says it all.

but it’s only now i realize- you haven’t been written yet.

there is no man like you.

<3

he told me he feels homesick when i’m not around.

how quickly he’s melted his being into the chambers of my heart.

and all i want is to be good enough to deserve it.

the past offers jarring clues to our present.

A frustrated man surfaces from beneath your skin.

changing its color and texture

coarse spines of brail

i try to read you

through arms of affection

scorned and mistreated

i wipe the blood from my brow.

didnt you know your quills were showing?

Elation.
My heart sits excited in my throat
So I can’t breathe
Without speaking it.

It’s important to not get
Caught up.
Hook line and sinker
To pink fleshy cheeks.
It’s barbed and bleeding
But the taste of red
Less feared
Than removing the barb.

It’s important to not get
Caught up.

Tangled in wires
Slinking from the ceiling
Limbs moan from the ache
The burn of freedom.
But the electric current pulses
In wires
And moves you.

It’s important to not get
Caught up.

Strangled by words
The last time they fooled you
A quarter to never.
Lodged in your throat
Catapulted to paper
It’s easy to forget
Who we are.

It’s important to not get
Caught up.