So I asked for input from a friend about which poem I should perform at a poetry slam and she sent me back this, which is both, spliced together.

I used to stare into the back of his mind,

tracing thought clouds into

lions and tiger and bears

oh

my eyes light up

when I'm melted to your back.

You told me once that my breath

tastes like stars

and that my hands felt like

leaves falling from oak

but Nature' time

doesn't allow for

couplets to rhyme.

When together,

flowers stay in the ground

and chocolates are left unattended,

as couch cushions

depress under

out intertwined weight

and whispers slide through the air.

And I didn't always know that's what I wanted

because I had different pronouns for a different kind of romance

I should have known it wasn't right

should've know there was no chance because

She told me that my lips tasted like paper

I didn't realize what she meant at first

Because paper makes me see old yellowed pages

Tattooed in calligraphy

Hidden secrets in the back shelf

The sound of a brand new books spine cracking

The cloud of dust when you open a neglected novel

That coy smile from the librarian when you check out a book with "adult content"

Sitting in a nest of unheard stories

Giving yourself paper cuts on excitement

And letting your weary eyes battle through words of adventure

The smell of knowledge in your nose

And the taste of exploration on your tongue

I didn't know what she meant at first

That I tasted blank and empty

(Apparently even I have themes in my work?)