I’ve built us a house of vines and its perfect
We are sealed from the rain, don’t ask me how
When I fell in love with him, I asked him to leave me
And in a way, it felt romantic because I knew he wouldn’t
We spend so much energy making love mysterious only to know exactly when it’s happened and how it is going to end, like the rips by the thorns you didn’t see in the woods
I had to pass through this, I had to have it this way, left stinging
Misunderstanding is just something we miss, and we can only miss it if we once had it
How many times do I have to ask myself to be selfless when in fact I lost myself underneath the waves of the Great South Bay?
This is not a lost at sea sad story, but I fear I was born an amniotic sac with a milk carton face
I want to write you love poems, I want to write about beautiful things that aren’t beautiful but everyone wants them to be so they write about it.
We call that tragedy, and melancholy and I don’t cry about tragedies I cry about breathing and the moon
I am here and knowing myself
And I feel like I am drowning in my eyes