1 minute later,
you're hysterical.
you're sobbing and it hurts so much.
your heart has been ripped out.

1 year later,
you've been crying every night of the year.
you're numb on the inside.
you're forgetting her features,
and it hurts.

2 years later,
you're sitting here,
writing this poem.
you've been missing her;
talking about her is easier now.
you still think of her,
and things still remind you of her.
but things are okay.
I remember you're there in that beautiful garden,
and I smile.

2 years later,
I'm finally okay.
((moderately))

you are a seventeen year old girl.
you have blonde and brown hair.
you drive and old truck.

you are a girl that cries at night.
you are a girl that lost a wonderful man.
you are a girl that deserves the world.
scratch that,
you deserve the universe.

I am a girl who loves the girl I am writing about.

we are just two girls looking for our place
in this world.

you always had such beautiful hair.
so short and honey blonde.  
every night you took your hair off
and I did not know why.
but underneath your hair
you had more hair.
your secret hair was long
brittle and thin.
it was silver, white, and grey.
you never showed your secret hair,
it was always wound tightly in a little bun.
I never saw that secret hair much
until you got sick.
you stopped wearing your honey blonde hair
as much.
I started to love your secret hair.
in the end,
it wasn't so secret after all.

what is heaven to you?

heaven to me is a place your mind creates;
a place where you are happiest.

I imagine your heaven being a garden
with petunias and hydrangeas.
you are kneeling with a small shovel in your hand
digging little holes in a flower bed
to place the little flowers there to live.
your cancer is gone
and so is your emphysema.
your legs are perfect
and your arms don't have bruises on them. ((your skin was always so sensitive))
you've got on your green striped shirt
with the matching green pants.
your cigarettes are in your pocket
and you are humming and singing an old tune from 1951:
"Hey good lookin', whatcha got cookin'? How's about cookin' somethin' up with me!"
you have that same front porch I remember
drinking the same Lipton cold brew sweet tea.

that's where I think your heaven is.

where is my heaven?

right next to you.
singing, planting flowers, and sipping sweet tea.

his body fits so well on top of mine.

his shoulders are freckled blades of beauty.
the muscles in his arms move and stretch as he reaches down to stroke my face.
his back is a smooth slate of speckled marble,
carved carefully.

I look up into his eyes.

they're oceans flooding my mind.
they drown my soul in wonder.
the oceans roll back into his head
as he leans down onto my body.
he breathes warm, sweet air onto my neck.

then,
it's finished.
he pauses.

at that moment, we are a complete puzzle, because his body fits so well on top of mine.

sleepless nights,
leaves and acrylic.
flames and capsules,
movie marathons.
I think I've seen this one
about four ******* times.
but it's okay.
I'm with you guys
and nowadays life isn't
so bad.

I've been told stories of your parties
how wild and crazy they were.
alcohol and drugs everywhere.
you gave her her first beer.

she calls to vent,
you give her the drunk speech.

bringing up her mother.

your last words to her,
"good night and good bye."

in the beginning
everything was sweet like the tea you sipped.
it was sweet like that little Lhasa puppy we brought home.

in the beginning
everything was forever like the car rides to new boston.
it was forever like supper on an empty tummy.

in the end
everything is dark like that day you left.
it is dark like my chest.

in the end
nothing is certain.
nothing is how it was
in the beginning.

choke me.

I cannot believe how much love I have for you.

every freckle on your face
and every pinch of ***** you take.  

every joke you make
and every kiss you give.

there are so many more things I could list
but we would be here until we were dead.

I just love you oh so much,
from every word you speak
to every action you make.

you're mine and I am yours.

completely.

my happy place is your back seat
a mustang
listening to loud music and cuss words
with the only two men I'll ever love.
living like savages
living like reckless young **** ups

living the way I want to

waiting room
bright
boring
loud.

gossip everywhere
blowing noses
clicks of phone keyboards

waiting room
hurry up please.
come on, let's go.