These love songs wallpaper my heart
and smother my sleep.
(This insomnia takes the best of me
and churns out poetry instead of rest.)
I am stupid with love,
my tongue too thick with desire
to be profound.
I’d give up every dream I ever dreamed
to be with you
(and to see what illuminates your eyes like moon).
I know all the beauty the world has to offer,
yet all I can do is shelter myself
(in a cellar crafted of words).
I have buried myself in this tomb
for too many years,
and when I finally emerge,
my words are bombs.
We are starting afresh,
and only roses & dreamers are allowed
second chances.
I haven’t dreamed in years.
This restless sleep haunts me
and I wander these courtyards
like a ghost.
(In my memories,
we drove for hours,
your hand on my knee,
humming the songs we loved.)
Tell me the grass is greener.
I’ll gladly hop the fence
to be with you,
but tell me:
will you still hold my hand
on the other side?
Always keep me close
even when I push you the farthest from me
you could ever be.
My heart isn’t cold merely because it is distant.
(The stars are how many miles away,
yet they burn.)
I haven’t dreamed in years.
I need you more than your witnessing eyes can see.
Maybe perhaps once I visualize these things like you do,
I can return to dreaming.
