Something

Foreign bodies,
(yours means
something
to me
when there
a long time,
but really ornimental,
nothing).

Foreign eyes,
(only yours
im scared of
looking into
a long time,
but it’s really just optics,
nothing).

Foreign mouths,
(only yours
means something when
smiling a big smile,
but truly just
a facial organ,
nothing).

Nothing-nothing-nothing and it’s
what i’m drowning in,
like a
trapped mouse
feeding off of stale bread,
hoping to see a better day next,
as i
milk out every last drop of you that
does not and will not rest,
the fear and heartache souring your breath,
the nothing gaps that holy your chest,

so i wish up the love
and i wish up the dream
and wish it all up so it can all seem
something:

but it’s the something that does not exist
that i am in love with, o true!
as i am spinning a tall tale of pumpkins and you,
a tall tale on the edge of the conversation,
a tall tale spun from the imagination,
of crying and laughing,
of staying and dashing
of goodbye and hello
of where’d you come and where’d you go,
of what’s your name i’ll say hello
of should i be naive or should i know,
as you
understand what i’m feeling,
and then decide on responding to that by
feeling nothing:
all i ever wanted
was just a little
something
to have around.