Overfinite

Sometimes you look at me like I'm the only thing keeping your feet glued to the ground and whatever I'm rambling on about at that moment is more precious than air itself. I was never someone who made guys glance back for a second look, but god damnit, something I did made this boy think that he could find the answers to his problems in the crook of my neck and the curve of my waist, and who am I to set him straight?

i write poems with the titles of movies i just watched because in some twisted way everything can be made about you. i've seen the edge of the world and it's a road out in greene county where the pavement ends and there is nothing but snow and darkness there, when the truck plowed into your car and it crumpled us against the side of the mountain like a disregarded newspaper on a sunday night now, whiplash doesnt seem as bad as the aching in my chest you've left me with these days "what ever you do in life will be insignificant but it is very important that you do it anyway"

i can sleep next to you, but not with you your roommate snores and someone is using the sink in the bathroom next door, but all i can focus on is the sound of your heart beating excruciatingly fast. when i point it out you mumble something that sounds like "im sorry" into the sheets and turn around to look at me i just roll over and it's not long before your hands trace a line from my neck to my back and eventually around my waist but, you apologize too much and the way your body curves against mine in the middle of the night is not perfection, but most nights it will do.

staring at the phone in my hand, i contemplate about how many words i would have to misspell in my text to make you believe i was drunk. i settle on four. when i try to type in your number i realize there is still something cold and wet in my hand, i put it down and it promptly gets knocked over. to be honest, i feel almost jipped that i have to pretend to be drunk as opposed to being able to just let go. i find another cup to drink again and it's warm in my throat but there is a sweet aftertaste that almost completely covers up the bitter undertones that bite even the morning after. i think it's fruit punch, or maybe l

i haven't fallen back in love with you, i've fallen for the distance put between us when i see you it hurts like hell, but really i have never been better this is why it can't work.

it took you 27 days to tell me. you were at the doctor for 17 of those i am not as clueless as i seem you take 11 pills every day i only have to take 6 i am always weak from drawing blood, and you are always sore from getting it too bad opposites don't attract like they used to when we were alone, you liked to listen to my heart skip and stop and comment that for just one second it was almost like i was dead afterwards i would lay back and remember when you were at the hospital and i had to sit through school instead now i try to black that day out you comment on how pale ive gotten and how easily i will bruise you'd trace t

our first time was lemons and lavender, and then i got wiser. one of the contusions on my hip looks like a sideways heart why does love have to be so painful? the second time was hard candy and raindrops. im sorry you had to wash your sheets and go to the store at 3 am, but it helps to be prepared. the third time was pillows and porcelain, and you never got to finish. because for a moment i forgot how easily i could break, and now i'm left to deal with all the cracks.

the flowers you sent me found their way into the trash, but it doesn't matter because most of their petals had odd numbers, and i always start with "he loves me not"

I know I'm the last person you'd expect to hear from but the way you used to say my name is impossible to forget: like a secret. Like a lifeline. Like I was the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. And I know we drifted apart. I pushed you out to sea without a thought of where the swells would take you, or what monsters the waves would wash up on your shorelines. But I swear, I'm not the person I was. And I don't think you're the girl you were. I think you liked yourself better when you were seen through my eyes, when every conversation was a love note I wrote you with my voice. You used to find yourself so much more exciting, but

delicate temple your heart is a chandelier your brain's a traitor

Quite frankly, you're heavy. Get off.

a little while ago maybe a couple of months or something i wasn't drinking ; instead i was waking up to you every morning you would stretch and your spine would move and i felt it all over your skin stretched into the sun and i saw it everywhere but guess what, that shit was gold and gold doesn't last and you didn't last. i got boring and you got mean. and you're less of a gypsy and more of a woman and i know if i called you up tonight said hey baby come home how did we get here baby i'm crying on the floor drinking lime pepsi and this goddamn pepsi is flat. so why don't you come home. just for the night. you would say you h

if the sea had eyes it would always be looking up sky's skirt

i keep dead flowers in my window in hopes that they're just pretending.

i don't know anything about science but i know a lot about time travel and if i could, i would grab her hand while she wrote her first poem, stand beside her as she tacked it to the fridge. i would whisper secrets about fairytales, explain to her that some days will just smell like your grandmothers perfume and your grandfathers suit. other days, you'll smell flowers that aren't really there and instead of fridges, you will learn to tack smiles in spaces where they no longer fit. i would tell her about the deer by the well, hand her a map so she could find her way home but i had better lessons to teach her like how to inhale