#sunshineramblings

[sunshineramblings]

one time you told me humans are only stardust and I wrote a poem about how lovely the way you shine

[sunshineramblings]

[sunshineramblings]

[sunshineramblings]

it's prettier than drunken mishaps and sorry excuses - a mosaic of the way we used to be.

we're part of one another. say,

"ensure it isn't shattered glass."

[sunshineramblings]

"Your boundary need not be an angry electric fence that shocks those who touch it. It can be a consistent light around you that announces: I will be treated sacredly."

-Jaiya John

[sunshineramblings]

how do I write a poem that has little to do with love when every black off-the-shoulder sweater and 7pm lavender latte are pleading for a little hand holding on a haunted hay ride and jack-o-lanterns blowing kisses?

what I mean to say is every poem is either a love poem or contains at least one run-on sentence about why it should be. what I mean to say is I still have ghostly visions of us

glowing translucent. I am afraid of the beauty we created idealizing death and disappearance, but in the autumn of adulthood we learned the names for our diseases and stopped making art from our pain.

now I write about your snores keeping me awake at night until the veil is so thin I clench close my eyes tighter than my grip on your arm when I'm begging you to join me in the romance of no longer chasing

the younger, broken versions of ourselves.

[sunshineramblings]

I found home in the gap between your teeth. your butterscotch tongue writes poems on my lips while we kiss, and

everything tastes like love.

[sunshineramblings]

sweeter than sweet, daylight haunting.

fingertips fierce as fire how they coax

me open, how they swallow me whole.

somewhere along the way we stopped

existing outside each other's bones.

it's easy to love someone who needs

touch to prove they are not fragile until

we are both on the verge of falling apart.

I guess you don't want to live and breathe

metaphors and desperation anymore.

I guess you're over the conflict of survival.

forget you ever called me home; say

goodbye to how pretty you look in the dark

and I will open myself up to the possibility

of landing in places unfamiliar where

none of the faces remind me of yours.