It's best if I'm moving, feet are for proving happiness
And if their skin is peeling then I'll let you kiss them.
As I breathe out, you breathe it in
Not intimacy but serious art, you and I.
Three years and I'm still not sure what that means
I'll take warm rice and beans any day over
Fleshy texts and sexed up red heads
With a penchant for pathetics.

I'm surprised to find you aren't deterred
By my vertical inconsistencies
My long bathing sessions and wet ears.

I'm finding bike chains and perfect jackets
And smiling when I think in cliches.