A bag of autumn leaves.
We had sex in front of the moon.The moon sat quietly watching.
A broken scab held up to the lightlooks like a precious stone.
You are the you in all of my poems,Sand falling from every inch of your body.Moon dust caked on my eyelashes.
There are many things I’ll never get to be for you,but at least I’ll be your poet.
I have a crush on myself.I giggle and blush when I walk past myself.