I, The Poet - The Simple Things

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Red nail polish

In a living room that isn't mine

Crawling up the spaces in the couch

Wrapped up in warmth and sleepy

Sweet nothings in dawn's early life

I see the spark of something bigger than myself take hold and winning the world

No longer seems important.

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Pitter patter across hardwood floors

Short and easy and flexible to the

Things that make us human and now,

I walk along the clothesline as he kisses my Forehead for the third time this weekend

I remember the small insanities of my last relationships like poison to my collected stature.

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Through the cracks in the floor they rise

Like fingernails of the dead in a cheesy horror

Flick like the ones we put on just now

And now I am In the kettle,

Getting tipsy all by myself,

Cheeks the color of the beets I keep promising to boil.

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The boy whose quirks,

seem to compliment mine,

He's asleep on the couch in this

rising temperature we seem unable to escape

As the temperature rises between us

And the heatwave ensues

Backs stuck to the leather and rip

Like a bong toke and smile,

The sound of summer and laughter,

The soundtrack to a life I can live

A thousand times over.

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