if the ceiling ever spilled the secrets i have spoken to it in the quiet time that shapes the universe

your cheeks would flush crimson in the prose i couldn’t put to paper for fear of scaring you away

the ceiling knows all my secret poems that i pen in wordless adoration as my soul demands the sustenance of your lips

even as my ribs make for a poor dam as they bend outward from the pressure that fills my chest in your gaze


2 thoughts on “ceiling

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