honey

in my head i think of water on rocks but there is no water here, just brick and cinder block.

sometimes i want to wrap my heart about someone else's. someone who has a bad heart, a sick heart, a heart that speeds up and slows down too much.

i want to hold his hand and put my head on his chest while he sleeps,

i want to heal all of the bruises that she left behind, i want him to see that there is someone who still cares.

i am a flirt. it comes naturally, i guess. sometimes it gets me into trouble, you know, the smile and eye contact and the position of my hips close to yours when we're talking--i always end up in places that i shouldn't. but with you i am lost, the movements that i know so well seem forced or half assed. instead, i just watch you. when you paint, when you sing, when you tango across the floor, and when you close your eyes and frown because it hurts to breathe. you are honey.

you are honey, and i have nothing to give you. nothing as sweet as your lullabies and your paintings.