She's quantum entangled herself into my heart.
Atom by atom.
Gravity has no effect on us.
We are harmonic.
We are a collision.
And I love her.

I have love on the surface of the skin I move.
I have love on the muscle I stretch.
I have love on the lungs I breathe through.
I have love on the nerves I sense with.
I have love sedimented into my bones.
Although occasionally my bones will fail me.

Vanity is only a sin to those watching
Plume of reds and flashy rings

Longing and boredom are siblings
Salí el sol por nada, and nothing more

A growth is what I am to you.
One that you seem to care for.
I am not the only bloom,
wanting from you anymore.

I blind my ears and hide my face.
For I feel the things you cannot place.
Let it remain the same; I could bear.
Yet I fear I'll hear you **** downstairs.

You're in your driveway and the heat is still on. Rain hits your windshield and the streetlights bend their light to your eyes. Shadows make intricate patterns on your skin and you watch them dance as you move slowly in the dim lights. The world outside is silent and the world inside is yours.

You're on some sort of camping trip. Surrounded by trees and the sounds of the insects that inhabit them, you take a moment to listen. It isn't cold outside, but it isn't warm either. You are alone. A moment of your time is spent gazing upon the stars. This is not to worry about the size, or wonder about them. For now they are just art. Distant sounds of other people beckon you to move and leave your place.

Sweat drips off of you as you step away from it all. The song playing now is slower and dimmed by the walls. This room is empty and you can almost feel the romance in the other. This doesn't bother you, as you just need to catch your breath. The building you inhabit is well made. You take a moment to appriciate it. Perhaps you should go home. The party has gone on too long.

An alternate desire at high altitude
with shared interest kept aside
For our joy, a different path we pave.
There's an interesting loss to be had, for a romance that was never allowed to bloom for what I had already discovered.

Butterflies taste with their feet.
With so many in my stomach,
I taste with mine too.
Each step a foray into the new,
pulling your body through the air
as if to give you the same feeling.

I had a great time.
A muse, in hindsight you were.
Passing thoughts float by.

I'm good at being a memory.
For those remembering me as a son.
I'm good at being a memory.
By those remembering me as a friend.
I'm good at being a memory.
Thought by those who loved me.
Yet a memory I will be.

I'm a memory for those of my family.
A memory for all those past friends.
A wisp in the mind of a lover.
I'm a bad memory for them in the end.

Stuck in the past too
Remember our Saturday
Perhaps forever