What I meant was, I wanted our hipbones to hold hands
while I take your lungs out to dinner. Dance with your
sunburned arms while I keep pretending that I am the moon
that pulls your tides back into place. The sea
would have been so jealous of the salt lines we leave behind
after dancing to the waves. I wanted you, and your left hand
tracing my backbones’ steering wheel to home. Your right hand,
a mailbox with endless love letters, on top of my knee,
I do not always have time to write back to, and still. You are so still.
What I meant was, I never should have taken these parts for granted
if they could have been the parts that kept us whole. We could
take each other’s toes on a walk on side street alleys and kiss
on benches full of thumbprints of no one we know. We could
do so much more, if we only we had taught of it before.
do you ever get in those moods where you don’t know how to feel and everything kinda feels mixed up and you’re just sitting there alone in your room trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you