Sunday 

I wonder if she knows 

how much you love staying up all night 

and watching the sun rise. 

I wonder if she knows 

about all the bad days you have 

and how you like your eggs. 

Does she know about that night 

you kissed me to your favourite song? 

Lord knows my mind hasn’t shut up about that. 

I wonder if she likes the freckles on your nose 

and the way you always smell like Armani Code. 

But most of all I wonder how she tastes 

because ever since I’ve had yours lips on mine,

he tastes like a mistake. 

Routine

One of those nights where you can’t seem to fall asleep so you think about all the relationships you’ve watched fail and the last time you ate something simple that made you wish you were 7 again. You think about the last person you slept with and how they took a part of you with them. You masturbate to the thought of the last boy that smiled at you and you finally find yourself getting drowsy. 

The Sun And The Streets 

We fell in love with each other And then with her. 

She gave us hope in exchange for gold, then slowly you’d given her everything you’d ever owned. 

We touched sporadically, losing our minds so rapidly. 

I took a few steps back while you fell through, and into the arms of someone who would never love you. 

She kept you warm but never fed, you looked so ill now from your toes to your head. 

You spent more time staying in bed, I couldn’t remember the last time you weren’t unkempt.

You never failed to go find her, even if it meant waiting around town till everyone bailed. 

You had given in to the vices, knowing they would quiet the noises. 

She took away the sun but showed you stars and galaxies, you spent more and more nights on the streets. 

You had no doubt and you felt free, all you had left were some faint memories that you lent to her so you could drown in her streams.