Maybe you didn't know what freedom felt like to give it to me.

Maybe you knew it a little too well to decide you wouldn't let it belong to me.

Am I asking for too much when all I ask for is to just let me be?

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What makes apologies and confessions hard to express is that it's got to be accepted first.

-

I'd write about you so deep
that the ones that read me shall know
that you're the kind they longed to meet.

I'd drown in my depths solo
that my rock bed shall look at itself
and feel so low.

-

is writing you letters,
the ones I'll never give to you
in bad handwriting.

-

My new love language has syllables unknown.
It's a poem etched on the back of my throat
burning and gulping down everything
that doesn't belong.

My new love language is orange.
Bright as a sin guiding through the dark.

-

My eyes land on a series of closed doors
as I wonder if anybody behind any of them
would want to listen to anything I've got to say.

-

You're an interesting linguistic phenomenon.
When you let a word slip through
One syllable signals a yes
and another, no.

-

I longed for closures knowing another comma would only prolong the ending.

Then I saw it.
You, a space before my full stop .

-

I start sentences
with "because".

Because I can.

-

Sometimes friendship is your laptop fan accompanying you while you work on your project at 3 in the morning.

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