I write my poems lacking in punctuation because I want you to run out of breath before you get to the end.
I want you to have to take a deep breath and think of all the times I had you on your back gasping for breath. I want you to read my poems about you the way I write them: fast talking and full of heart and full of regret. I want you to read my poems and miss the way my fingers traveled up and down your spine similar to the way I’m typing this into my keyboard right now. I want you to read my poems and wish that you had tried harder to get me out of my own head. I want you to read my poems about you and remember that before you I didn’t think I had a future. After you I don’t think I want one. I want you to read my poems and know that they are all about you. Even the one about the way the leaves fall off the trees are really just a metaphor for the way you used to undress me, one layer at a time, slowly, deliberately at first and then yanking them off and tossing them into a pile on the floor. I want you to read my poems and jump into your car and close the 800 mile gap between us. I want you to read my poems when you’re a little bit tipsy and pick up your phone and start wishing you were the one who was good with words. I just want you to read my poems. I write my poems lacking in punctuation because I want you to run out of breath before you get to the end. I want you have to take a deep breath mid word and think about how you miss me exhaling into the space between your shoulder blades.
I know you don’t read my poetry a.b. (via queenalib)