Heads or Tails

I’m sick of writing about me. And you.

Trying to loosen the grip

I have around my own throat.

Strange girl learning alone at the table,

waiting for seats to fill themselves,

trying to be okay if they don’t.

Scavenging for monoamines

in the fruit and sun. The cat, bed, and desk.

Remembering it’s not enough to keep spelling f u n.

Our communication is dictated by the God

I made from a twenty cent piece.

I just want to talk to you.

I’m so tired of denying

the existence of string.

I want to know who sees it too. (I pray it’s you).

Closed eyes grow over the punctures in my palms.

Clenched fist sight.

Ones made for light.

Lilac limerence I keep

covering in blood.

I told you when we met

I’m always too much.

I left songs on the beaks of birds,

in case you wanted to follow me.

I promised I’d stop waiting for you.

Secret sail boy,

I worry my waves aren't the ones

to pull you home.

I want to be a light house,

calling across story seas.

Singular certain beacon of safety.

I find myself pulling promises from pauses

in our conversations.

Patient premonitions. Please call me back.

I can see us in art galleries and museums.

Dancing in our house

with enough bedrooms for every child.

I think God knows,

if I got you alone

I could never let go.