I find it annoying that I am always
drawn back to your northern lights.
Although you carry pretenses of being a godless Yankee,
I find myself being reminded by God
why I should keep faith in people
in your starry-stuck irises.
This is not the first time I have fallen for you,
and I can only wonder if I will pick myself back up.
We inhale carcinogens together nowadays on the same stair-steps
you dragged me up so you could take care of me.
Others have thrown their backs out trying to help,
but you simply bruised my spine.
I wonder if you remember the time
you asked me if I wrote poetry about you;
my lines will always connect us
as thoughts of you crease my forehead.
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