You say head east, there is no further west to draw lines, even if we wanted to, even if it felt right. He tells me to write shorter sentences but the space between my lips and his lips can only be explained using expletives. In the winter things dry out, they crack along the lines in spaces that were weak to begin with. I wonder if we’ll be like that, like them, like this–.
Sometimes I think about filling in your blank spaces, the ones you don’t know are blank. And I imagine what it might be like to sit next to you, beside you, on top of you. No one is ever looking. I’m getting obsessed with the comings and the goings of my former self. I want to sleep nestled behind the nightmares and watch them on the big screen. I want to make you dance for it.
I wonder what you think about and if it is ever the bends beneath my sweatered elbows, my freezing knees, or my chapped lips. I get along with the world because I allow it break my heart. You, you sit pious and push away the parts that tear at you. For all the years you have against me, you still do not know what a heartbeat is worth. What kind of twenty seconds the living can have when they let themselves go. I’d like to see where you go.