or his tan deepens with green.
It’s not because he sprinkles cinnamon in my coffee
or kisses my forehead when he’s done.
It’s not because he takes the turns slow
or calls me before I go missing.
It’s because there are bugs in my eyes where my pupils should be causing me to see the world from dark corners. And he wraps me in the cool sheets of his arms as I crawl in my sleep.
It’s because he pours the milk as I stare at his back.
My smile comes out of hiding.
He steams our coffee then looks my way.
Teeth showing through my curved lips.
It’s because the phone is ringing and no one moves towards it.
The smells of coco pulls in my nostrils.
Everyone knows what this is.
It’s because he flips my page.
He comes and tumbles me from stone.
He doesn’t see my lumps and bumps but pulls the diamonds from my eyes.
I melt my nose into his shoulder’s smell.
I carve his smile into my heart to nourish my blood when she’s bled dry.
I set down my free and watch as blood cry’s.
There is blood that weaves through our hairs braiding us for all time.
I miss him when I blink.
I look out through a skull of fire.
Love caught in my throat
wrapping around my neck
chocking me like a bone.
Imprisoning me like I’m in custody.
Fooling me like I’m selfish.
I need a trip so far away.
Into the mountains where the wind sings through the trees.
Where the cold is held at bay with wood and stoves and carpets bear.
The itch is deep inside my skin.
The clovers hold this wish.
I live like I’m on a throne
rubbing the fabric right off my seat
curling my finger on the armrest
testing my nails on the wood.
Haiku is my home.
Trees sing in the wind.
Birds call to the sun.
The ocean flashes her blue at me.
I drink it in like a cocktail of creation.
I keep my cries tucked in my armpits.
The air races into my nostrils.
I must have been holding my breath.
I live high dodging smoke.
It’s so hard when forests get in my way.