something is different in her sighs
when she smells the bouquets of lilies
blooming in december sunlight
and we're running out of vases
****
not able to sleep because your brain thinks louder than the silence
****
i see you in my dreams
standing behind shadows and blended into crowds
but it feels like software
like you're there because you were programmed in
once upon a time
not because somebody invited you back
and when we lock eyes in that place
it feels like lacing fingers again
but your heart and hands are cold
and you melt into someone else's arms
a liquid ghost
you slipped between my fingers
i'm not sad, my palms are just damp
and something squelches in my chest
****
i should be in bed, but things are too quiet in there
****
my lungs are filled with paint
it balloons when i breathe in
splatters against the walls when i sigh
it seeps into my blood
when i run through the thorns
everybody knows which way i went
my legs beading cerulean and magenta
sometimes all the colors collide
pooling and congealing around my heart
until i feel an explosion coming on
and my throat is raw and rainbowed
****
sleep may come with daylight
****
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