uncertain 

i don’t know whether to trust myself

or trust the words coming out of your mouth

because at least you have this all figured out. 

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blame game

hanging on to a thread 

that i created,

lowering myself into the pits

that i lit the fire to.

it’s a game of how much damage

i can cause and how much blame 

i’ll take for it.

my constant company

a poet like me never gets lonely;

i have my words to caresss my lips

and my thoughts to hug me tight;

no i am never lonely,

not with my turtleneck warming my chest

and my heart beating as a constant drum of my extradorinary life.

my company lays inside,

my words

my heart

my thoughts;

oh how i am loved.

Paris is a dream 

take me to Paris

so i can butcher beautiful words and mimic foreign accents

and drink incredibly expensive coffee

and pretend i like tea at 3 in the afternoon.

i will walk around while simultaneously falling in love with the romance language subliminally spoken 

all around.

take me to Paris

so that i can take in the overwhelming scent of

freshly printed poems and bakery goods and cry because 

this city,

is truly,

alive.

the flood 

i think too much,

but apparently that’s what 

gives a writer the upper hand. 

who said i wanted the pen in the first place?

yet it’s been handed to me.

therefore, i will let my thoughts spill over in floods

and watch the words fall like honey from my mouth and prick like the thorny stem of a rose. 

i want your mind 

your mind is honey to my mouth,

kiss me with your intellect and serenade me with your passions.

touch my heart and tickle my thoughts,

no physical contact is needed, let me in on what you’re thinking.