Between Bruises and Blooms

There is something dangerous
about the way you look at me.

Not because I’m afraid,

but because you make me forget
all the reasons
I built walls around my heart.

You don’t ask permission
to live in my thoughts.

You simply do.

Between songs.

Between pages.

Between every breath
I swear I’ll stop thinking about you.

But then I remember your smile,

and suddenly
every poem I never wrote
finds its way
to the tip of my tongue.