Spilled Ink (Currently undergoing updates.)

your lips taste of the
peanut m&m’s straight from the jar
and of drunken promises
in the dead of night.
our eyelids are shut
and our eyelashes...

I wonder if this is how my father felt when he turned 20.
Did he have the same thoughts dwelling his mind?
I want to ask him,
What does it...

I dreamt about poetry
it was just you and me.
Dancing to the metered beats—
molding similes over
chocolate treats—walking
...

I go through nights where I can listen to one song over and over again, simply because the melody makes me think of your hands...