Catharsis of the Robinhood

It’s not love because I’m not thinking about dying.
What’s a mortal body can do about saltwater under tongue and overflowed waves lapping at the seashore?

You’re writing letters with no address and I don’t want to know how you sleep with two lungs pressed against the cold floor of your kitchen, revisiting ghosts you don’t talk to anymore.
I don’t want to hear how you wish eating doesn’t hurt anymore but you keep chewing metal wire of memories like daily dose of candy bars.
How the knives are no longer sharp and don’t cut the hurting.

I’m climbing through your windows biting colors to your atmosphere.
Warning sign in glitters and divine silence of lions that haven’t had their fills.
All you have to do is not smiling and let this body fall free.
Eat my wanting heart and peel the old pictures off your skin.

You’re endless chime of sunlight but it’s not the morning you wanted.
Your voice is ocean sunrise hope but it’s not a new day you asked.