each time u touch me
my body becomes a veil of smoke
because i cannot run after the jagged in ur ease.
tonight i may freeze in a pile.
i long to hate u and find a way to turn ur bones to gravel in my arms.
i sit here
eating granola alone
thinking of the way u cut me with kisses
and the way u grind the knife between my lips.
i was butter once.
i was soft and made to melt
in the palms of a wet god
and inside my steam was made for love.
the crumbs of me
are wasted on ur invalid
that i were a text message away from paradise
and a phone call away from normal.
u tell everyone we’re not trying
but all my efforts bleed back into ur eyes.
u tell me i’m the kind of beauty
that would make the sun fall into the water
and the rest of night would turn pink in my gaze.
and i don’t want to miss u
sat here, eating my granola alone
but all i can be, is, alone.
my fashion is ur winter.
i hope u wear it.
and i hope that u will lose ur purpose
when u lose me.