captured

so say this is how the Sunday evening begins

pitter-pattered went the rain

I love how ventilated this old house is

we breathed together



perhaps you are nothing more than a canvas

for me to paint my imagination of romance

all that I've collected and subscribed


yet you're still just

a canvas

to my single-sided fondness




all I did was

kneading my reasons into logic

albeit
nobody needed to care

this space is captured for me and you

and your black dogs




I tried breathing in the same rhythm as you did

- self explanatory

and your white strands out growing your emotional intelligence

makes me wonder how this came into place

as I watch you sleep

soundlessly





Happy birthday

soft spoken

I have forgotten how to live

I confess

how it is to pour a little sun on the skin

how it is to fold clothes hung dry

how do I clear my dead skin cells from the tiles

next to my bed

how do I function with a living space

                   I call home



my standards of comfort

responsibility

are to be instilled by the influence of the sorts       of which

who tells you

to shut the cover of detergent tight after you finish

who tells you to pick up trash that you have created

how does logic function within me

what draws a line of your discipline, claimed sense of righteousness

and a vision that I've blurred



I see circles

I spin