someone's juliet

there
are more and more
of these nights now.

the: "under the sheets
I'm not coming
out never."
nights.

and
and then
your
corduroy\voice
shakes
me alive.

if a girl
who paints
on her
eyebrows
can
deal.

so can i.

and
so.

here i am.

writing alone,
to
a you that will
never
hear my
distant whisper
of praise
and love
and crushed cigarette hopes
and
it's
raining
in my soup again,
a plum
red sky
swallowed
all the decent in my bones.

what does
it feel like to wake up next to:
all you ever needed.

an empty? a want? a calm?
i don't
know
but i'd sure like to try it out
for a day or 10.

and
i
just know
you
are
are
are
definitely
someones juliet.