I. let's go somewhere where we can be people again. 

a. in bodies, there is nothing if not pressure. and horses with their melodies and stupid whines that cause more than ache, more than the pitter patter of hearts in arms. (“if you wanted me to touch you, you could have just asked”) but asking in itself is a horrible desperation. And I would be nothing without pride bound and whipped to the back of me, yes, you would find something special to tongue about in these hollows? Create the most sacred of hooves behind unworthy placements of bones? Would you? 

II. it’s warmer on the rooftop, don’t you think? 

a. A form, if it will weep, will give you ink. Letters, words that are a touch too sad. But i am trying. If not for you then for a speck of you that rests outside of haze, that lives sweetly between ears like the head ive always wanted to have but we were given this instead, yes? Gifted with hands of the Great Maker, with none of the power to show for it 

III. let’s go somewhere we can people again? 

b. It’s hot, all the horses and the noises of panting, and the running from anything that could be considered tangible, but what’s the real problem with escaping all of this? how could we possibly be if I was not there in the first stanza? whisking that speck into something that could be a lot like dancing but is actually just another way to fuck you or fuck me over god i wanted to see you like that on the rooftop b. I wish it was colder up here, enough to see the sweat leave me ground up and wrap around your window or wrist, whatever mess of attention would find the light and glimmer inside of you\ 

c. It’s warmer on the rooftop, don’t you think? There are birds where people shouldn’t be. And someone is drinking in a brand new year but i would forgive it if you were something colder, less friendly, i think? A blade to my cheek? A telephone that does not ring and I was weak 

d. For a moment, I’ll admit. That it was nice to be between hands and not feet how the circle of this always spins, but that was cruel of you 

e. I think? 

f. To be kind, if only to a piece of my self. to let sweetness sink in, then be so sudden in your anti appearance 

IV. will you love me on the rooftop? Will I be whole up there? 

a. (“who knows? But it’s warm, for now. And God knows the heat won’t be the thing that kills you.”)