In my mind I try to paint a colorful picture of you
But it always comes out black and white
I will never forget your eyes
for how they made my mind color blind

Well
I guess
It's over
And I've
Got nothing
To do, other than
Get over myself, now.

There we were staring into each others eyes
Mine were screaming be mine
While she stared straight through mine
Why oh why do we have to say goodbye
One last hug and one final goodbye
Now I got nothing left to do but cry

The sultry evening falls like the silk upon my shoulders
                   I kiss your throat as you write to your mother
It conflicts you, does it not?
                   The memory of her weeping and the very act of your hands
One clutching your pen, the other gliding over the inside of my thigh
                   Both ever so foolishly stained in the purest of black
It certainly conflicts me, my love, for all my tender heart longs for is this:
                   Stain me
Grip my hair, press me harder onto your lap, blacken me
                   Let me see the sweetest stars—
And may they be sweeter than the relish of raspberries upon my mouth
                   Write to your mother about me
I shall kiss you for it
                   And thus, as we clasp hands dreamily, become your muse

Mud and snow, block the path,
we slow, and find our way;
the sun is bright, the skies so blue,
are the reasons that we stay.

Darkened pines obscure the view,
of snow-capped peaks far off;
we dodge the rock strewn trail,
puddles shine, like brownish broth.

Then, the hillsides open up,
a thousand feet, above the road;
the highway is a serpent,
through the mountain's fold.

The air up here is pure and clean,
it rejuvenates the being;
the soul is stirred by visions,
of the beauty we are seeing.

We hike until we're tired,
though our weariness is nice;
for this time and for this moment,
this walk...   it will suffice.

Genderless with scraped knees and
A lipstick crush on one who bore the same name as me
Uncut brown hair untouched by bleach and
Stealing kisses from my best friend while my parents lied asleep
Lying in the grass with a picture book on faeries
Listening to the wind whistle through our dying trees
Jumping on the bed with my ***** and my bubby
Giggling hand over mouth when my mother called him "hubby"
Daisy chains and he loves me nots
Unbrushed teeth beginning to rot
***** shoes and ***** shoelaces
Visiting imagined places
Pink striped socks and a skirt to mismatch
Waiting for robins eggs to fall or to hatch

O, to be a child and to live within a dream
To lie awake at ten past eight, imagination like a stream