It’s electricity barely breathed.

It’s suffocation under sheets.

It’s the knife in my side.

It’s the kiss on my thigh.

It’s a self-made ruse.

It’s jazz and it’s blues.

It’s rain on a rite.

It’s stained on pure white.

It’s tight-roping in the sky.

It’s a push. It’s a pry.

It’s you, at my sphere.

It’s dense air, cold and sheer.

Loving you more than understood by me.

The thrush’s soft refrain, a careless cadence, closed beak.

And it’s so fucking hard to fly with a broken wing.

Everyone has a past.

I have a cast.

I release. I fling.

I assign roles to my surroundings.

I have shed skins. I have formed impressions.

On ships, I’ve been ejected, I’ve wrecked it, and since—

have healed broken bones but now walk with a limp.

Everyone has a past.

We forget the initial, and remember the last.

The outcome is in your hands—a frightening task.

Sign on the dotted line. Don’t read the passage.

It will pass. And always end as it’s supposed to happen.

I’ll forgive your January, if you’ll forgive my June.

Tomorrow I vow to chase the sun down.

Today will soon become part of that pang.

But I smile because tomorrow’s another day.

Silence regret. Roll with the sway.

Everyone has a past.

I’ll fly away.

• guy: *quotes one of my favorite obscure movies*
• me: so, the wedding should be in July I think and oh, 4 kids- 2 boys and 2 girls...

Calmly indulge in this soul

Invading my veins

Your temper floods the blood that flows to my brain

O rain, when the mourning comes

The sun may rise

But this girl’s very nature refuses to thrive

An iceberg in July

Your surface cannot hold my heart

With schisms in my hips I’ll likely break apart

Your love is a ditch

I’m force-falling down the bottomless pit

Not as it seems, bewitched by a glitch

Not as I dreamed, you’re a soul without a spirit

A person

Not a place

My salvation

Is not your face

You’re only as much as you let yourself be

& you only know as much as I let you see

And when the morning comes you’ll remember my name

Not for acoustics or its expression of grace

But because I spoke yours sincerely—

& now it’ll never sound the same.