church bulletin

slow heartbeats rhythm through tired veins
and ragged breaths are done in vain.
start. stop. fast, pause.
the choice is yours,
i can't decide at all.

playing with your hair

i saw your well dressed formalities
come up and watched were we had familiarities.
i thought it was all too good to be true.
and i took another second glance,
compared it to what i had seen last.
you took my words and you turned it into thread.
but i can hold your hand and i understand what you feel.
you've been scared to tell me something
even though said really nothing.
i've asked you, 'what do you want me to do for you?'
and you went off and ran to hide for nothing better.
the futile attempts only made you dirtier.
so now, you come to me filthy instead.
but i can hold your hand and i understand what you feel.

i don't want to sleep.

apathy.
its contagious and unfortunate.
causes one to count minutes
until sleep comes.
i can hear you breathing,
my personal bedtime story,
body wrapped up in warmth
and i still feel, it just doesn't register
anymore.
la la la
the room's quiet creaking becomes angelic
i wait for the light to come early
in the hour between darkness and daylight.
but as for now, your soft sleeping eyes
are all i want to watch.

heartfelt unspoken.

eyes shut tight, they are searching inside.
feet fidgeting, wanting to move to where you are
lungs cease breathing, its hard to remember
when i breath you in
inside.
wandering thoughts, pure and dreaming.
i cannot tell you how i feel.
and i, well, i couldn't guess if you felt the same.
nothing can really change.
my fingers play this game
where they pretend to hold yours.
you're the first one that i considered real,
and i don't want to leave until i know for sure.