what does your voice sound like ? what does my voice sound like when i'm around you?

"I don't get it," I try to say it in my voice, in the mirror i'm borrowing for the year.

They pull out the honesty though and I type into my phone quickly looking up as to not walk in dog shit or bump into a fast walking stranger "How do you keep from that feeling? How do I stave off wanting to be in my own kind of love?" 

A voice in the dark, that's what I used to think of phone calls, to my aunts and uncles, whose faces I couldn't see, but would still disclose the highlights of my week to, always promising that I was studying hard, that my good marks were  not just stories. When I call someone, when I read a text, when I read an email, I have to see that person, they need to be moving or else I kind of get stuck. It's easy to zone out in the dreams of your dreams of the human being that is dreaming out loud close to you--close to your ears. 

Today when my heart was beating, I saw a fleshy part before my ribs curve twitching and when I stopped to check it stopped to take a break. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore my eyes are turning into hearts and I don't like it because soon it will be something I needed to forget--something I flubbed. 

I think it's okay to end things and blame it on finding a white flag or treaty or gap or bulge. I thinks it's okay to admit that this crush will take over--but I cannot let it, platonic feelings need to be described as going further and deeper --we don't love our dogs in a romantic way because that's harmful and nasty--maybe when you're getting to know someone it's important to love them in this less than easy way. 

--like how dogs move their heads when humans hug them because they don't like it--

--like how i'm trying very hard not to get bit--

it's probably a good thing you can't taste a poem in your mouth in their mouth in her mouth in his mouth. it's nearby your mouth--and you can't kiss it and you can't hug it but you can hear it making noise and panting and watch the parts in people's shirts puff in and out and it makes the world okay--that the conditions were right, that you heard that poem with your own ears outside of your head, outside of someone's mouth, outside of the room and outside of night. poetry used to embarrass me because I liked it and guessed that to write in the way one had to be feeling all of IT all of the TIME. i'm being vague because it's midterms and i'm tired and i'm scattered and trying to read four things at once and write an article about safe spaces and all "I wanna do is be tied to you," 

that's it folks.