Boy, if I were you I’d wake up late

I’d put on a t-shirt, plus whichever jeans were at hand at the time
I’d show up half-baked, late and hungry

to meet friends already on their fourth drinks

there’d be no recourse in a redress, they’d know it on purpose 
if I spoke languages like you

mouth full of syrup and all alone

I’d sing damp under bridges till my tonsils fossilised into the stone 
if I’d exited my mother blazing bright

I’d light the candle at both ends

eat my oxygen through cylinders rolled with cardboard love notes
hell, if I could speak a another language

french or spanish, or anything half romantic

I’d let doorways bend to announce me
I’d stand in a stream with my cuffs rolled up

watch a pretty girl bump her soft feet over rocks towards me

the hanging wet ends of her hair

but I’d never know why girls start wearing vinegar on their necks 
you’d burst jasmine

when I messaged at the start of spring

to tell you I’d be home for the weekend 
at the bar, I’d drizzle a kiss on your cheek in front of your friends

the hurricane comes later
you’d learn not to mind when I never called back

I’d be burning up jet fuel on the circumference

you’d be skirting the propeller of a compass
if I were made of iron like you

I’d build myself up by the foot

for every extra pound of flesh they tried to take
fuck, I think I’d just set this thing on fire, I’d torch the day

wearing only your t-shirt, plus whichever jeans were at hand at the time
and these days, they stay up on my hips with just a cable tie

and a chunk of my own backbone really.