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.

Look - how long my branches are!
With all these leaves to spare,
the sun must surely like me
because it is always there.

Look - how deep my roots are!
With all this food to spare,
the earth must surely favor me
because it is always there.

Look - how far my shadows reach!
With all this shade to spare,
the people must surely adore me
because they’re always there.

Look - how strong my trunk is!
With all these rings to spare,
the axe must surely love me
because it is always there.

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

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.

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

Plucking dead sprouts from the arms of her harvest.
Feeling the ghostly ambition of their growth,
she removes their threading.
Hemorrhaging liquid wound.
Memories soaked out by her hand.
Still she admires the taste of loss.
Wither.

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.