The walls have a warmth to them,
because you are standing and staring at them,
spilling sunshine and asking my opinion on paint swatches.
I am overwhelmed.
There are so many walls.
So many rooms.
I have so little to give,
just my dresses in a bent and struggling cardboard box,
and as much of my vinyl collection as we could carry from the car.
There is a waterfall erupting all over my shoes,
because the boy is making it clear that he would like to see the warm walls.
Let me live, my lover girl.
Don’t let me get lost,
lose it all,
lose my mind.
OOPS! it’s already gone,
and I’ve given you my heart,
with your initials carved in each curve and crevice.
Oh my love,
is it really such a disgrace,
to fall in love,
to stay in love,
to find new madness in the estate of my affections every morning,
when I wake up in your arms,
and my body grows and glows,
fertile and full of emotion?
Let me live for you, my lover girl,
and the life I find inside of me.
oops! it’s already done.
Even in my dreams,
my days are dark and dismal.
My mind is so cruel.
My mind is a maze,
and I am always so lost.
It takes the edge off.
Give me a new dream,
a breath of clean, and fresh air.
I’m choking. Dying.
Strawberries spilled across the clean counter,
chased by the sharp silver of the knife that was shepherding them all towards the chopping board,
right next to the half pint of heavenly cream.
You told me that I’d get a headache,
from the heat,
and all my worrying.
Popped half a strawberry in between my lips with a kiss on my cheek,
and no word about how flushed and fevered my skin was.
I wailed as you whispered reassuring words,
I threw all the windows open with great theatrics as you chopped,
taking a brief break to take two ice poles from the freezer,
one blue, for you,
one pink, for me,
placing them both into my mad mouth,
until I was finally silent.
My frozen throat wanted to thank you,
suddenly more speechless as you stood on your tip toes,
one kiss, two kisses,
thunder gently breaking over my head.
My mint madness breaks bulbs,
shatters the stillness,
broken glass panes are my only companions,
as I compile a long list of the reasons my suspicions are not just baseless paranoia.
There is grass inside my bones,
growing strong and defiant,
it wraps around my waist and my brain,
injecting invasive thoughts and conspiracies every time you touch me.
Do your hands belong to my loving, lime heart?
Will you always be true to me, blue?