there's a girl
who holds
the universe
in her eyes
(they aren't tired
yet)

she loves the rain
and the sound
of voices
and his eyes
and his eyes
and his eyes
and the feeling
she got
after her second
kiss

she dresses
in white
her cheeks
stained
with innocence
held high
(her tears
fall like rivers
whenever
she cries)

she
drowns in words
faded
pieces
of a thousand forests
a billion minds
and minutes
held
crumbling
and falling
through her lap
and scrawls
empty words
(the ones
she hears)
between gaps
in the pages

she
sows
an entirety
and gives them names
of all the famous writers
(she sometimes
regrets
reading them)
and caresses them
with her lips
and the words
that slip through
(they really
become
more beautiful
in the sunlight)

she
won't say the words
that need not
be said
tainting feelings
and moments
with a means of escape
(and she will hold her palm
over her ears
just to save herself
from hearing them
fall like feathers
from your lips)

she will
fall in love
with strangers
until she knows
them
(and then she will wonder
if her imagination
was actually real)

she will
write
until the moths
tire
fluttering
against a lit screen
and the butterflies
fall apart
across
a bare neck
like stars
falling into the sea

she loves
the sky
and the sea
and can't decide
on separate
entities
(confusion
mounts
and weighs her down
until she flies
away
into the drizzle
on the corners
a gentle breeze)