I don't know what to call this poem

Sun sanoista paistaa pelko
Lauseet valuu sun huulilta hitaasti ja sun silmissä makaa tuo kevyt kauhu
Enkä ole varma onko se koska sä olet syyllinen vai koska sä näet ne aaveet, jotka jahtaa mua öissä aamunkajoon asti
Mä haluaisin kertoa sulle monta olutta mä olen juonut ja montako tupakkaa olen polttanut
Vaan koska mä tiedän miten sä et pitäisi siitä

Onhan tänään torstai

Mutta mä en ole varma
Onko tämä sitä mitä halusin
Rakkautta, joka on kaiken ulottumattomissa
Johon etäiset huudot ei kuulu
Eikä syysmyrskyt tartu
Ja joista kesäkuun pisarat valuu pois kuin sorsan selkää pitkin

Mä halusin sut heti ja mä pelkään ettet sä vieläkään tiedä
Koska mulla ei ole aikaa tai sydänjuuria joita asetella pitkin sun lakanoita sunnuntaisin

Tämän nikotiinisumun takaa mä toivon,
Että sä muistit ne salaisuudet joita kuiskin sun korvalehdille
Ja että sä rakastat mua siten miten mä ansaitsen

Mä makaan sun hengityksen alla ja voisin vannoa, että sä tiedät mikä seisoo värisevien jalkojen varassa mun äänihuulien reunamilla

Valmiina hyppäämään keskelle tätä korkeaa taivasta,
Mutta pudotus on kovin pitkä ja peiton alla mä kerroin miten mä pelkään osuvani noihin kivisiin kallioseinämiin

Kuitenkin
Tuon vapaapudotuksen pohjalla on rikasta multaa, johon mun olisi turvallista laskea juuret
Ja käsivarsiesi vahvat marmoriset pilarit, jonka ympärille mun ajatukset voisivat kasvaa kaikissa vihreän sävyissä

Kuin nuo pyhät kullatut kupolit, sun jokainen henkäys mun ihoa vasten tuntuu siunatulta
Ja mä kannan sun ääntä vasten mun rintaa tämän aatteen nimissä,
Jossa turvallisuus asuu tuossa pienessä saunamökissä, missä sun isän vanhat vinyylit soivat hitaina pitkin hirsiseiniä

I wasn't there

The price of my pain is threehundred dollars

I blow smoke up in the air

dollar after dollar

until my throat aches

I sit around at landmarks of the city
making tourists uncomfortable by my teary and desperate presence
I try to lock eyes with people on the subway
to make someone see me in this city where I've learned to hide

I spin my index finger in amber waves in my glass
and flirt with men at the bar

that'll be seven dollars, ma'm

until I feel hazy and get the courage to finally go home

And yet I am not numb enough to look you in the eye

but I have no more cash

You look at me and tell me it's time to be past this

because our lives are still the same

So we go back to work,

play board games at the bar with your friends and

we share the covers in the bed

where nothing is the same

You could've chosen anyone but you chose me

So many people I've let tiptoe through my poems
let them spend the night in those words I've written for them
and numerous times I've sworn hand on my chest
that they were the most worthy creatures to lock behind the curly bars of my handwriting

the thing is

For all those times I've feared that was really it;
that my love was something you could release with a simple gesture
or by a human mistake
of  leaving the gate open and it would run off like a wild animal
desperate for fresh prey

You let my heart run free
but before I got even halfway
I realized I've never felt as safe as locked up under your sheets at night
and that no one has ever been so worthy of my words than you

because there's nothing more lyrical and poetic
than the madness you have driven me into
where diving from a cliff feels safer than falling asleep to the sweet memory of crashing waves

Different worlds

I carry my heavy body from my sheets in the morning

with such hope and defiance
that's only held by the mountains that surround our city

in these recently icebound mornings

I'm amazed we're this brave
and we're going to share the meaning for 'home'
along with forks, sheets, the sink, the morning light flowing from the windows on Sundays, the house chores, morning kisses, knives, fights and lost gloves

I place each limb precisely around the idea of you in my bed

and fall out of my strength for tonight

and with a mothers dilemma

she removes the tears from my eyes that are going to fly her daughter miles away

Give me something to return to in your heart

I am a house
young build but old at heart
so we can spend Sunday mornings rummaging through the dusty corners and get excited exploring the attic
and find more surprises to complement the others already found
lying around between the hardcover books, scruffy stuffed animals and rusty candlesticks

Who would've known it needed just some containers,
the right kind of uncertainty and your practical mind to
make me cook meals and love unconditionally

We don't sleep
but pretend to do so
but it's hard to sleep with the wind of change in our sheets

I need your calm footsteps on my creaky floors
to carry soft carpets in
so we can sink our feet into the mellow warmth of silence
and you'll make fun of my wrinkly and crooked grandma toes

Just keep laughing and tell me you haven't given up on us just yet

Hyperballad

In my mornings I live like a blind man
and carry my fingers around your body up down up back to the soft skin behind your ear towards the bones of your hips and back to touch the slight dimple where the curve of your nose ends

Waiting for you to tell me it's enough
but you never do

The reason everything from my cuticles to my light wrists slither on your leather shell every morning
without exception
is just so I can memorize every single bit of you
before I must carry my own weight away
so those three white metallic eagles can fly me across the seas
to the bed I haven't slept in for 358 days

You kiss my lust out of it's sleep to drape it over your pelvis

Boats stay silent and still
surrounded by wandering waves
before my intoxicated and damp eyes
and I hope you are going to love me more than all of those arches of bent down spines
cracking underneath my collapsed sanity