Positions are replaceable, People aren’t.
Where are you from? Not a question at all— An assertion, rather Of “not here.”
Can there be death Without Heartbreak? Yes. But, death without Heartbreak Is heartbreaking.
My name stained Your tongue, Tapped your teeth And Lingered on your lips. These words you never said– My name Written between the lines Of tales half-told: Stories of lust and longing,
Your assumptions of who I am, what I am and why I am the way I am, have nothing to do with me. You want answers ask more questions and be satisfied with what you get or fuck off entirely.
Distance Is not a factor. Closeness Has no correlation to initmacy. Kilometres from kin– Irrelevant. You are simply Filled with excuses Not to see me.
I’ve started exercising again. I know, I know. I hate New Years and it’s new yous, but this isn’t like that. I’m just trying to move around more, y’know, to get the blood flowing, get some strength and tone my legs. I used to run on the treadmill at the gym, remember? I’d watch the…
We fall back into old routines With the same affection and uncertainty. Forgetful, Distracted by the lure of love; Behind our eyes, A dozen unanswered questions.
Speak them into existence And they will haunt the air. Ghouls or goals? Your tongue is a sharp thing, A pointed wand, and All words are magic, So think before you speak.
Hopeless romantics Cling to connection Like baguettes and bike rides, or Late nights laying in the park– Gazing golly and glee– The stars tell stories To the eyes that gaze upon them.