borgia, borgia, borgia

I have been writing less than I used to
and part of me wants to blame
sleepless star-filled nights
but all I've had these days are
hours filled with paperwork
and measuring my life in
coffee-spoons
but I am moving and happy

Yesterday the radio told me
that we all need more time
that in a few months it'll be alright
to "say what I mean,
because [you] can't figure out what's inside"
I think I'll stay cryptic for now

Cracked finger-skin and dented car doors
caffeine-sleep/squished blueberries in steel-cut oats
deep breaths in the morning's tough-love light
good morning, good morning, we say

You are the only thing that is still
and moving, all at once
You are smiling from afar
and right next to me, all at once
You are letting me go
and holding me, all at once
All at once, Lover of my soul

"She told me sometimes she gets rambunctious"
says the woman in the café
in a blue sweater the color of a whining happiness
where were you when they called the police, and?

Orange zest tiny and neat on a pile of cream whipped
like clouds and sea foam
my joints are aching to move
dare you to move, dare you to move, they say

I am moving! I am, I really am!
Who was I convincing here?