We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.

The first time my town saw the sky it sucker-punched us in the throat, left us breathless, said, I'm gonna keep you awake some nights without touching you. You'll make it up, the pain, you always do.

You are the home I point to that lives in my chest.

You're not the only piece of patchwork birds can pull worms from.

Knowing me is easy. You can still twist your hair and feel silly. Look up the word tacky and have a salad. But when we're together you pull bread apart with your fingers into bites sometimes so small I gotta remind you, Peach, it is okay to be hungry.

But I still show up for gentleman practice in the company of lead dancers, hoping their grace will get stuck in my shoes.

Love makes no mistakes.