if i could fall in love with you, i'd yank the blue sky from its perch and wrap it around your shoulders like grandma's woollen blanket;
i'd extract the spirit from between your toes and douse your eyes in it, so maybe then i'd understand what makes your thoughts turn 'round;
and i'd write the words of a love-bitten victim on the insides of your wrists, just to make sure i won't find scratches there in the morning.
if i could fall in love with you, i'd glue your sentences on the walls, and tell everyone the paint was peeling anyway; and i like falling asleep to the scent of your ink-spelt feelings;
and i'd give away the coffee that keeps me upright every day, if only to rub the nightmares from underneath your ragged fingernails;
and maybe i'd even name a skin-deep butterfly after you because my superstitious nature would still my fingers; and you'd have claim of my scars.
if i could fall in love with you, i would not speak your name anymore because it would taste too sweet – meant only to be breathed on your neck with your fingerprints on my waist and a caution ground between my teeth.
i'm tired and sore and so so tired, and that's how this somehow struggled out my fingertips. and i think i'm going to go hide under the pillow. except i have things to do, arrghh.