i let down
my twisted hair
and let
you in.

you say not
to worry, but
being bit doesn't
mean you won't
be bitten again.

my matted
knots of dead
strands, are
untangled by
your words, and i
fall alseep.

sleep. the last
place i ever
want to be.

(let me exist in a
place of constant
creation)

i let you in.
now, in my sleepless
state i can hear
your breath through
memories, and i am
very aware you are away.


being bit doesn't
mean you won't
bite again.

my nervous
system feels like
a supernova
without sound.

in the empty
vaccum of space
maybe i could
leave you alone,
but as it stands,

i am getting
my hair in knots.

i fell in love with you.
my slowly returning lilac
daisies, spring up because
i've been sprung by you.
my soft kisses, are yours
by default, without you,
they would have no purpose.
without you i don't have a
purpose. you are here when
i need you most, and give me
space when i need it most
and something about
your face is so kissable
and touchable, and lovely.
your tendencies are sublime
and wonderfully plausible.