Hair.
It doesn't matter if its there.
It doesn't matter if its bare.
It doesn't matter if its long or short.
It doesn't matter is its spiked or strait.
It doesn't matter if your crush don't like it.
It doesn't matter if your parents like it.
Just be you.
And if being you means dying it pink.
Then by all means dye it pink.
Just be you.

Today.
I looked into some
Crystal clear blue eyes
Yes. They did remind me of you
But I decided not to dwell on that

And.. I have also realized that
Loving someone..
Isn't the same
I realize that you read
These well-penned verses
But, you are missing the point
These aren't all of my emotions.










just...
Most of them.

How I adore your nerve
when you kissed me in your closet upon sheets made of legos
and all of your childhood dreams.
How easy I am for you to draw when you play on stage the song that you wrote me,
The one that feels like rock climbing by the river,
Like naps in the summer when I drool on your chest and you don't mind,
Like kissing you until the very last minute of my curfew,
only to break it for the miracle that is your lips.
How alluring is your breath on my neck,
Your voice in my ear when you told me that you loved me
and you didn't stop smiling,
even as the years went by and I did.
How I craved, longed, begged for time to be still
the time you took me to the highest hill you could drive to,
You called it my mountain.
"At first, you look at it and it's so small,
but once you notice it, it's all you can see," you said.
How my stomach floods with waves of nostalgia and a taste
of everything I've ever had to live without,
With complete and utter spell-binded devotion at the simple familiarity
of your smell.
How addicted I am to your laugh when you're happy and
the mastered impression you do of your mom.
How weak I am to your intellect and your appreciation of literature
and real music,
Your enthusiasm for art and the "name that note" game you force upon me
as you stumble onto the classical radio station.
How in love I am with your romance that is as childish as my attachment
to my baby blankie and my mother's childhood walrus that you never ceased to insult.
Our pajama day that we decided over our prom,
When we turned on John Mayer and slow danced in your room.
Your idea of a date consisted of fake wine and me.
How incredibly warm are the coldest of nights,
On the side of your dirt road as we lie in the snow that is too cold for comfort,
yet holds us there with the fear that one day will not look the same as this one
and I would bear any amount of cold winter to keep one more moment of yours.
How I cherish the way you latch my pinky with yours when we walk
And the face you don't know you make when you play guitar.
The rooftop where you kissed me for the very first time and the string rings
we wore to remind each other we were still there.
How incredibly and unfortunately devout I am to all that I remember of you.

How I adore your nerve
when you kissed me in your closet upon sheets made of legos
and all of your childhood dreams.
How easy I am for you to draw when you play on stage the song that you wrote me,
The one that feels like rock climbing by the river,
Like naps in the summer when I drool on your chest and you don't mind,
Like kissing you until the very last minute of my curfew,
only to break it for the miracle that is your lips.
How alluring is your breath on my neck,
Your voice in my ear when you told me that you loved me
and you didn't stop smiling,
even as the years went by and I did.
How I craved, longed, begged for time to be still
the time you took me to the highest hill you could drive to,
You called it my mountain.
"At first, you look at it and it's so small,
but once you notice it, it's all you can see," you said.
How my stomach floods with waves of nostalgia and a taste
of everything I've ever had to live without,
With complete and utter spell-binded devotion at the simple familiarity
of your smell.
How addicted I am to your laugh when you're happy and
the mastered impression you do of your mom.
How weak I am to your intellect and your appreciation of literature
and real music,
Your enthusiasm for art and the "name that note" game you force upon me
as you stumble onto the classical radio station.
How in love I am with your romance that is as childish as my attachment
to my baby blankie and my mother's childhood walrus that you never ceased to insult.
Our pajama day that we decided over our prom,
When we turned on John Mayer and slow danced in your room.
Your idea of a date consisted of fake wine and me.
How incredibly warm are the coldest of nights,
On the side of your dirt road as we lie in the snow that is too cold for comfort,
yet holds us there with the fear that one day will not look the same as this one
and I would bear any amount of cold winter to keep one more moment of yours.
How I cherish the way you latch my pinky with yours when we walk
And the face you don't know you make when you play guitar.
The rooftop where you kissed me for the very first time and the string rings
we wore to remind each other we were still there.
How incredibly and unfortunately devout I am to all that I remember of you.

Do It

Do it in the street, do it in the house,
do it with a rat, do it with a mouse.
Do it with some cats, do it with some dogs,
do it with one of those newly infected hogs.
Do it in the morning, do it in the night,
do it is best after a big huge fight.
Do it on the couch, do it on the bed,
do it is gross, when someone is dead.
Do it with a girl, do it with a man,
do it always, whenever you can.
Do it when it's red, do it when it flows,
do it cause that's just the way it goes.
Do it with a horse, do it with a cow,
do it even if you don't know how.
Do it with a sheep, do it with a goat,
do it on the deck of your favorite boat.
Do it from the front, do it from the back,
do it with an old smelly yak.
Do it on the toilet, do it on the sink,
do it cause the inside is always pink.
Do it on the floor, do it on the table,
do it when you're ready, willing and able.
Do it after dinner, do it after lunch,
do it with an apple pie during brunch.
Do it when you're mean, do it when you're kind,
do it with any hole that you can find.
Do it cause it's easy, do it cause it's fun,
do it cause men love to shoot their gun.
Do it when you cough, do it when you're sick,
do it no matter, the size of the ****.
Do it when you're *****, do it when you're not,
do it by yourself and hope you don't get caught.