The freckles on my body are just
maps you drew so i could find my
way home to your home where
upstairs wardrobes float amongst
the dead sea because I cried too
many salty tears onto your hardwood
ocean floor.
And you built me a raft made of
second-century artwork so we
could paddle to your basement and
I could make you laugh so you
would forget that all I'm good
for is water and you can't even
drink it.
I can see paradise but it's nowhere
near the dashboard it's somewhere in your future with some person who can actually kiss you and hold you when you gasp at the 3 a.m. ghosts and will tell you
you're magic.
And maybe this time you'll believe it
because you and someone set alarms
to ring at exactly 4 a.m. so the timing would be
absolutely perfect.