On this night, Addison seems oddly quiet
It’s almost as if he’s a ghost, himself
He’s never loquacious, I won’t deny it,
But on this night Addison seems oddly quiet.
And an odd one he is, though I mean nothing by it,
But tonight it seems quite like he’s on a higher shelf
On this night, Addison seems oddly quiet,
And it’s almost as if he’s a ghost, now, himself.

an open field and a rain of acorns,
angry squirrels that have no interest in calculus.
cold coffee and colder thoughts and worried that somehow,
i’ll walk home by myself.
keys and broken friendships and hats that have been sold --
a tiny bottle for millions of tiny bones
and Bones, looking for all the world
like something you couldn’t leave behind.
overpriced doorknobs and overpriced pizza and being able to laugh,
laughing in the face of something terrifying
and feeling sick and worried but once the gate’s open, the water rushes in
and you don’t know how to stop, let alone
how to begin.
you long for fingers intertwined, for soft admissions
and softer, still, even smooth glances
for black mail and power abuse and somehow,
in all this,
still being the sweetest feeling you think
you’ve ever experienced.

Cold floors, and colder feet
Cowardly promises always fall through
Cold floors-- thin ice that breaks at the thought
Of being honest
So I'll smile and lie again, too afraid to
Fall.

I could snap you like a twig.
You give me that insolent look and in the instant it took to follow through,
I knew
You care not for size or matter,
Only that the latter
Hardly intimidated someone without the first
And yet, you know, the worst
is that
I could snap you like a twig,
And were I usual, conforming,
Maybe I would, but I would rather
Nurture you like a sprout
Til the twig has no doubt
That mind over matter stands without.

paper.
your skin, it's like paper;
pale, translucent, fragile, and yet --
it comes from something so strong.
i wanted to write all over you, make you
mine
but i couldn't, out of fear you'd shred
i was never good with words, i know, but try to understand --
it's the thought that counts
and the thoughts i pen down
on this, my temporary
paper

i'm awake.
i shouldn't be, but here i am,
floating in condensed night, wondering
where my body went,
and why i'm awake at all,
when i hear it again -- the herald of my awakening:
a voice softly whispering my name
my entire name
me
without a choice, i am pulled into the speaker's presence
and i swallow
because, if it was anyone, it would be him, wouldn't it?
he's clutching his pillow and he shudders and if i were able to speak,
i'd joke that he should really learn to be quieter when he does this
i'd tease him about the clamminess of his skin
i'd say his full name slowly, roll it around my mouth, part my lips and say it huskily
like i wanted nothing else but him
                                                  (it's not hard to act out the truth)
these are the things i would do if i could speak; as a silent spectator,
i'm forced into sobriety,
into knowing he's not jackin' off at all
he's crying
desperate, disgusting sobs
every shudder spikes through me and i have to leave
i'd rather stay asleep for a millennium then to be the object of his
broken affection

you were something i never was.
warm, breathing, whole
and wholly alive
and i wanted to hold you in my hands but i was afraid i would break
the porcelain in your skin
the glass in your eyes
and i wanted to feel every side of you but i was afraid i would tear
the cashmere of your skin
the cotton of your hair
and i wanted to make you mine entirely but i was afraid i would ruin
the sincerity in your smile
the longevity of your thoughts
and i wanted to be inside you but i was afraid i would banish
the innocence in your spirit
and i wanted to be with you but i was afraid i would destroy
the life in your bones
and i wanted to make you part of me, but one of us has to keep on living
it's okay -- i'll be your ghost.