deer

today was purple. my words weren't coming out right. they were falling out. spilling over the corners of my mouth. slipping through nooks between every tooth i've managed to keep. you just sat and kissed every part of it. even the places where my words fall out the most. times like these, i lose my tongue. she runs away from me and laughs when i go looking. days that aren't purple may invite her back. 

my heart feels swollen after seeing the ocean. it had been months since me and the sea found a direct space to commune and rescore. i walked home from the shore, following embers of faith, to see you in the living room. the sea told me you'd be a good thing. she's never given me false hope before. please. please don't start now.

a scratch i can not reach.

on a purple day, i read poetry in the sun. i took a stroll and noticed new plants on the street. people let their weeds grow out here. wild and crazy. boundless and lenient. like me. 

i've decided to let my brain take the week off. she's hardly ever in direct communion with my heart. always getting in my way. walking me into corners and back alleys. purple is the color of a friday in the grass with you. even when i fall through my words like a new-born deer learning to stand.