That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth.
You can hear the some of the lines every time you breathe out.
And it’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, I’m still working on my rhythm,
My tongue gets tied sometimes, my throat gets dry, my hands start trembling.

Honestly, the only thing I’ve mastered
Is how to write a really good ending.
But I’m getting pretty tired of finish lines;
So this morning I bought a needle and thread
And started stitching you a sunrise
And the seams are tattered and torn
‘Cause I got the cloth from an old shirt I was wearing
The first time this world started tearing me open,
And I’ve been choking for my breath since then.

Have you ever spent a whole year hoping the morning wouldn’t come?
I’ve had a band-aid in one hand, in the other, a gun.
Something’s been screaming, “Fire kid!”
But something’s still screaming “Live!”
So baby, write me a bridge away from the storm.

I don’t know the words to the song you were born to sing
But I know your fingers will bleed when you play the chords
And maybe you’ll need me then like I need you now,
When I say that I miss you, I mean something more.
I mean I’ve been biding my time til you kiss me again.

I keep poems like secrets, then I tell them when I’m tired of hiding who I am
I am missing you most in the silence between songs on my favorite records
Sometimes, it takes so long for the music to start.
Is there a shoreline where the seaweed holds the rocks so tight they soften into sand?

Is it too late to say that that’s how my heart feels in your hands?
Like you could sift it through an hour glass and pass it off as time
Never stood still and neither did I, but I will. If you let me.

In your arms I forget what the yarn knows of sweaters
I forget how to hold myself together, so if I unfold now
Like a love letter, tell me you’ll write back soon,
Tell me you’ll still come untethered.

I saw the moon last night for the first time in months,
She reminded me of you, slouching stubborn in the light,
I’d fight battles with the sun to rest against you tonight.
To feel your breath on my pillow.

Those songbirds outside your window are dropping feathers like I dropped words.
I’m cold from all that came out wrong, I sleep alone now, even when I don’t.
I sleep backbone to floorboards, ‘cause they’re softer than regret.
Don’t let me go. Don’t let me go yet.

I traced your silhouette on the skyline,
Your crooked spine bent meadows into mountains,
I climbed to watch the sunset,
This sky never looked so gorgeous.

All those fallen stars sick and tired of being famous,
That man next door with his old violin,
I swore his song could save us.