YL🌼

you may not be my first:
          
          but
          i have bared my soul to you in ways no one else has ever seen
          dusted off the shelves of my heart so that you could begin to make it yours
          and cleaned until the hardened residue left dormant on my walls is gone. 
          i have swept the cobwebs from each corner of the room 
          disinfected every counter your gentle hands may touch
          restocked the fridge so that you my love will never go hungry. 
          i have changed the sheets in preparation for your skin
          made the bed and tucked the corners tight
          lit candles so your lungs may never have to breathe the stench of my past
          i have made my body a home. 
          a fresh place for you to lay your head when the world gets too cluttered 
          an oasis in the midst of chaos 
          i have made space for you in my bones where there once was nothing but junk. 
          and while someone may have held my heart captive before
          no one had ever let it rest gently beside their own. 
          so no, you may not be my first
          but i will die knowing 
          that you were always meant to be
          my last. 

How Would You Love me:
          
          Like the prickling smell of rain, the morning after; imperfect.
          Like the tiled bathroom floor painted red, you would watch as I scrubbed away the insufficiency. 
          And cradled inside my calloused hands your heart would beat to the rhythm of discord. 
          So enveloped in the gentle touch of chaos, unbeknownst to the taste of death on my tongue, your hands would crack against my surface.
          You would be defectively mended. 
          And alongside the deep yearning for love within myself, my brain would attribute such a feeling to your battered palms. 
          I would be content; blind.
          I would love you as if we were not fated to destroy each other. 
          
          -YL

goodnight 
          my love. oh how pretty you look in a sleepy daze. your body curled into mine as your breathing turns to a steady rhythm; a lullaby crafted specifically for my soul. you stitch me back together simply to unravel me in the gentlest of ways. an uncomplicated kiss, merely for the enjoyment of doing so, our love is not based on the grounds of lust; that is what i love about you most. you do not solely desire to undress me, rather unravel the layers of my being. to hold me against the beating of your heart if not to simply show how much of it sings to the tune of mine. i could bury myself in the home of your love, for it is beautiful in a way the fibers of time could never explain. i am brought back to life in your arms, for i know that forever is where we belong and in forever we have all the time in the world. your fingers hold mine in contempt rather than itch to roam the plains of my skin; our love is embedded in my soul, sweet and simple. i wish only for you to know how deep my love for you goes. but until the morning, i will stitch this moment into my heart and pray that when the sun rises i can breath it in again. goodnight my love

they say it’s mutual 
          but i think i’m just being delusional 
          think i’m romanticizing again
          make believing what isn’t actually there 
          forcing together puzzle pieces that were never meant to fit
          
          you don’t want me. 
          
          and maybe this is self sabotage 
          but then again when have i ever been good at accepting gifts
          i despise the feeling i know i have deep down
          the want i can’t seem to be rid of 
          they say it’s mutual
          
          i know it’s not. 
          
          -YL

How decadent. 
          Sweet and sour, 
          soft and shredding. 
          I still associate foreign numbers with your name. 
          Ding dong goes the chime of my phone 
          and there erupts a chorus of butterflies in my stomach. 
          A sinking feeling; quicksand. 
          I close my eyes and wait for the aftermath. 
          The questions of why and how,
          because if I know anything, 
          it is that you do not care for me at all. 
          Your hands do not yearn to comb through the thick curls of my hair. 
          Your eyes do not wish to witness my smile just once more. 
          Your ears do not live to listen to the ballad of my laughter. 
          You do not miss the little things. 
          The way the toxicity made the highs feel euphoric. 
          You do not miss me
          And that is ok
          because I miss you; 
          The fragments of your soul that linger.
          More than enough for the both of us. 
          
          -YL

even if we are to be enemies for the rest of eternity, i accept. for at least i know i will have all of eternity to spend at your side. 
          
          -YL

They said to pick a letter and I chose A.
          The same letter that begins your name.
          And to cope with the trauma, 
          I tell myself that it was subconscious.
          Yet I fully understand the consequences each and every time. 
          I can feel it bubble underneath my skin.
          The way your name fights to break through the surface,
          Gasping for a breath of air.
          I hate the way those letters rub me raw,
          Scarring the soft tissue left on display for the world.
          I watch myself from afar, 
          Peering into the depths of my mind while my body wrestles to gain control again.
          I fear that this is forever.
          
          I pick the letter A every time. 
          
          -YL