I say I want to save the world but really
I want to write poems all day
I want to rise, write poems, go to sleep,
Write poems in my sleep
Make my dreams poems
Make my body a poem with beautiful clothes
I want my face to be a poem;
I have just learned how to apply
Eyeliner to the corners of my eyes to make them appear wide
There is a romantic abandon in me always
I want to feel the dread for others.
I am no good.
Goodness is not the point anymore
Holding on to things
Now that’s the point.
Beds are beautiful and caring and not judgmental and sympathetic I could write love letters about beds all day
i hope one day
the stars will shine
from your eyes and
you will know what it
feels like to be