my eyelash wishes stopped being about him
and so now they have turned into all about you

and so when I want attention
I don't have to fake anything
(I find that you are always paying attention to me)
(because you like me I guess)

and you don't call them "labels" because
you're not a coward and you know
you know how you feel

you also don't call it "jealousy" but
like I call it, "commitment"

what's happened to the world while I was gone
and traveling in your eyes and down
into the valley of your hair and
your lip-sea?

singing chanties of your always smile
and tasting your cinnamon-oatmeal skin
and you also taste sometimes like tea
with no sugar or cream

like tea after sex in the morning

you make good tea
but can it be my turn yet?

cochleann if that is how you spell it
and gooseberry tarts
and if only I was old enough and
had the money and the home to myself and you
there would be hot whiskey or Irish
coffee (blasphemous if we didn't drink tea too)

So when I stop making mistakes
though I have days at her house and
you have nights with her of my heart
we are still happy and not
many could survive it like us
(or maybe just like me
maybe her of my heart;

you seem so comfy here)

only now I realize I've been saying everything on loop
and the music playing in behind me is
all fever-dream words
so forgive this rambling caused by rocks in the throat
and love in the place not normal

babies and a house someday, thank you

(stealing Halsey's words
and thank you thank you for everything always everything always always and forever and forever and ever)