Verbatim

Is it too soon to say I miss you Because I do And it’s getting pretty hard to hide  This game of cat and mouse has me tired As I’ve always been a little more feline Always had an extra scratch in my bones Itching for heartbeat percussions & dreamscape melodies Turning houses into homes while we’re in escrow and I’m still waiting for my keys But we, Are more passport stamps than white picket fence Hands clasped as I lean against your chest Staring together at a world of possibilities I am a student of taking things slow Learning to enjoy everything in macro Up close and personal Where a single breath is an eternity Light telling tales in simple complexities of framing and shadow Shallow observations deepened in discovered subtleties If photo albums had chapters This is the one I learn to master Our best moments captured In tonal ranges from light to dark - a shift in perspective  Roadmap to my heart Presented in Polaroid prints I’ve collected Sometimes I feel overexposed Wh...

Long live Castor Long live his dimpled smiles, Long live his thoughtfulness, and his ability to be both calming and goofy at the same time I will always see him in every Spider-Man costume, every mosh pit Every skeleton knife Every Christmas tree ornament In every mop of hair, and boy with pierced ears Every rice burner Every toy organizer Like the one from ikea I had in a box for months before he tried putting it together himself and broke a few pieces and I had to fix it… it was still a really nice gesture😂🥰 Long live Castor in every heart he’s ever touched Like lingering strands of sunlight clinging to the mountaintops at dusk We say goodnight instead of goodbye Knowing a beautiful sunrise awaits us when we meet again Long live Castor on earth as he is in heaven Forever remembered God’s sweetest angel

Been stuck on a road Too high to mine for gold Down in the dirt Where I face my shadows, my hurt Learning to garden As my chrysalis hardens Burying bodies of chapters That lost their laughter Compositions of compost matter Fertility for the freshly sown to grow   Watered with drooling pleasures Unsevered sense of self I keep my healing in pockets  With my flowers and rocks Woven into song lyrics, quiet moments Neck kisses in between breaths Anything to help Curb the craving for lust and love bombs Delicate fingertips Tracing the lines of my palms Playing it cool  But don’t leave me in the cold Don’t leave me at all If I should be so bold  Engineered thoughts To stray from what I’ve always known 

Love comes to the hands of those who never stop believing she exists Rewarding daydreams of salt-sprinkled kisses on foreign streets Sand squishing beneath feet Solely searching for the grandest of adventures

I couldn’t help but notice the quiet mischief in your gaze Wondering how long you’ve kept your wild tied up in a neat little bun and side bangs Tonguing fires behind your teeth Rolled up small talk in a slow burning leaf  Extendo innuendos licked between your lips Perhaps in the past I’d given your fake smiles and hidden pain a follow Let me be a whore for all the pieces of yourself you thought I needed liquor to swallow

Your lips are the sweetest poetry I’d ever dare taste.. even Juliet would whimper for the scent of your petals, a brush of your skin tempting the horizon to shiver and beg for endless night

I may have lied When they approached me Asked me if I wanted to perform my usual brand of heartbreak I mean, poetry I said, sure Like it hadn’t occurred This drought of words A taste so obscured on my parched tongue Everything resembles dust to me currently A hint of salt in the corners of my cheeks Streamed with cliche similes About how we were supposed to be like soulmates or something Twins baby You’ve been consuming me since utero Reflection of yet another reason I have to go Irish exit before the next gaslit convo I lied when I said I understood your boundaries meant slowly dissipating into dimly lit shadows of what we used to call loving each other Did you know you were lying when you claimed this would be our last forever? Honestly, I miss who we used to be There is a part of me who thinks we’ll never stop existing in the forgotten corridors of things we gave up on I think I lied when I said I’m done With you and your crumbs Truth is, those crumbs have been the best poetry I hav...