i know the love that i deserve costs— you’ve made the price feels like a reason

you got me worrying only about grilled cheese toasts

i don’t do love poems— i do ransom notes

i think love should have a purpose

i am no longer 16 & craving everything

cutting costs & limiting feelings feels like a privilege 

rather than a chore

loving you is like dancing while folding clothes; slow, certain, unnecessarily funny, having way too much fun when we’re at the age where we should be worried

you feel like a familiar perfume in a field of fresh air

it’s stepping back to see the pattern

it’s also bravery; to redo the pattern

you’re like white linen i’ll always recognize 

normalcy after a pandemic 

somehow not just a piece to my mosaic