Roses and Thorns
Buy me roses
and
prick my finger
on their thorns, so
I may close
my eyes
and dream of
You.
paper cuts! in strange places!
I wrote you a love letter,
stood at your window,
and ate it.
A cynical conspiracy theorist (but in love)
What if
none of this is real;
not you, not me
and definitely not us.
What if
all of us are characters
in a novel; and every
time we forget,
it’s the author backspacing.
Then I would give
anything
to make our stories
intertwine.
Cupid’s Curls
I watch you dancing
across the room
unaware
bits of the love letters I hurled at you
still tangled in your hair