I wrote you a poem

I am paranoid
That you
Will like
Me back

You don’t want to do that

My spine is made up of orchid blooms
A skeleton thick with unwatered flowers
Discarded and no longer needy
Not asking for attention
Existing without it
But unhappy

The outer states
Like outer space
Like the glamour of inner space
The tranquility found in resilience
In you and me having coffee
The caffeine making us feel
In love

A temporary absence
Me missing you dearly
Notebook pages of the times I want to have
Tongue-tied over the phone
I want to see you lose your mind
Come on, I do it all the time
Your turn

You don’t want to do that

And you won’t
Not with me
Where you are safe

Je croyais que tu aimais les mauvais garçons.

Money, fast cars
I’ll show you how to live
I’ll show you how to live like the bad boys did

Cheapskates and dice
Can you teach me how to play
Can you promise me that you’ll look my way

In your attraction I find
That obscure, digital one-of-a-kind
Brilliant, dedicated, dyed-in-the-wool & unrefined

You’d be a fool to not be attached
The water’s clear, sun’s down
Come around town

Mieux vaut être seul que mal accompagné.

That 11:43pm crisp, nighttime air. It’s enchanting. Maybe it’s the peach-flavored wine or the fact that this life a beautiful one to live. Where’s my head at? I don’t reckon I realize that enough, or make something out of that utterance. I’ll put it on the to-do list.

I’ve been thinking about an assortment of things. Some I feel are silly, inconsequential matters. And other thoughts pertain to what I really want in life & how I plan to get there. It’s not always a smooth ride, as I’m sure many of you know and have learned time and time again. Does anybody really have it easy? Is that even worth debating? Save the chat for what will help us grow.

It’s the sweet wine, I’m sure of it.