the looks

in the margins of my loose leaf

but we’re not really like that are we?
she’s sick of me talking about you
but it’s like breathing o2
how all these cigs will make my
lungs collapse unitil our ink
bleeds from my nose
i thought we could make the skies melt
pink and purple and gold but
you make me feel blue these nights
so maybe this is your statement
your empty experience i hear you’re
the scum of the earth i heard
you call me fickle i’m not but
maybe indecisive? it’s okay to
not know i’m told i crave control i
misplace vowels because it is 
not me you look for anymore
or is it? open books but no
substance within our covers,
we’re all blank pages here.
say you want to be with me
is all i need