risen

In between every pulse, my blood sings your name. 

I won’t ever be able to give you everything

But I can write you a lot of poems 

and kiss you when the clock strikes

1:01

and 1:01.1

and 1:01.2

I’ll make my bed into a cloud for you

to cry about the little things you never told to 

anybody

neverbody

nobody

everbody

everynobody

And you can show up on my pillow when I’m fast asleep

and I will wake up with a smile for your

CO2 emissions are more lovely than the 

oxygen of every tree

and every leaf

and every little piece of grass that can make

fingers into whistles 

and tune up the saturation on the memories of your smile

I’ll paint your windows during nighttime

while you’re reading a book about the philosophy of butterflies

so that when you awaken

the sunshine will make a stained glass mosaic on your

porcelain skin and you’ll realize

that you’ve been

art

to me all along

As you hum along to a peaceful riot

remembering the dos and don’ts of karmic reverence

my brain waves keep with the rhythm of your questions 

so that my body manufactures

— in it’s hormonal expulsions — 

wannabe answers

I’ll tinker with the locks until every door is more open than not 

on the path way that brings you

to here