dear syntax

it still jars me
when i wake up
and you have carved
your reflection
into my ceiling
like the breaths
between our kisses

but now,
i have abandoned your pretenses
the way sentence structure
rebelled against lover grammar

another way to get by

your heart
has drifted, but
it still feels good
to wake up
in your arms

gail writes to dwight

when I
locked eyes with your Shellie
there was no savior
staring back in irises
that sparkled
like polychromatic aspirations

but its funny
how I
find empowerment in
objectification;
how "always ... and never"
redeems myself
in your
hedonistic pupils

because there is only chivalry
in moral ambiguity