it's a clear night sky that i look out into
and my heart is begging to believe in fantasy
but keep mistaking planes for shooting stars
making wishes only to be betrayed by red lights blinking
and they keep shifting this sky that's supposed to guide me home
don't know which way to go
don't know where i'm going to crash
and if i'm going to burn
tonight

roughtongued
he said he didn't want to be my sandpaper
didn't want to leave me red and raw
but it was all in love he said
all in love
he kissed my hand, eyes looking towards the door
and i nodded, not caring how many layers of skin
he peeled
to get to the inner parts of me
because as long as he was rubbing me raw
at least he was still touching me

take a deep breath and try to sigh out my insecurity

"there may never be another night
just like this one"; so i say pensively
to he who looked onwards, outwards
and inwards- he nodded his head, slow
slow like melting ice in eastern springs
and i wonder when in our discourse he began
to really hear me (if indeed
he has yet)- i look at the planes and the planets
and wonder if, indeed, i was meant to make this journey
or if i should've stuck to what i knew and know

but still, i suppose i love the way
he shake shake shakes my snowglobe
causes ruckus in my structure, leaves his fingerprints
over my walls, sticky with bright paint and grape jelly
disturbs me just enough to make me question who i am
he leaves, laughing, leaving me with the pieces of the puzzle
i thought i had solved, and now cannot remember
how to put together again; my own enigma

crisp night sky and a sliver of moon reveals to me
truths i might not see in daylight
and disenchanted by wishing on false stars
i begin to dissect these words i'm saying, things i feel



he is like ivy, winding around my heart
beautifully choking the life out of me



but i'll go pretty
and isn't that what's truly important?