What a fleetingly beautiful thing
I am
My own body
The way it curves and is hard
In some places
And soft in others
And I look at it
As if I could control that
As if I should try

I think on myself
Touch my skin
And wonder
What is this beautiful
And transient thing?

Bumblebees swarm under
The orange rind, bedside
Lamp flits, claws clench
A steering wheel, speeding.
Almost there, almost home,
You’re so close to finally
Understanding, almost.

It clouds the way I see your face
Transports me to another place
Makes me dissect a warm embrace
Oh how I wish it wouldn't

I hate to hurt, from past and you
It's trained in me, nothing to do
With how we are, I see it through
You're wonderful, I have no clue

As if you whipped my heart to shape
Looked over like a wilted drape
I trained my heart to feel like crepe
Clutched like Ann Darrow by the ape

It is my way I have found
It lifts my feet from solid ground
Like a circus mirror it confounds
Leaves me foolish in it like a clown

I don't expect you to see
The way its wicked works on me
It's hard some days, but I will always be
Much more than my anxiety

It's not that this space
Aches in your lack
It's that it feels fuller
When you come back

Something inside of me broke
I didn't feel the snap
Until the reaction spread
Like a cold pack
Hit against red brick

I lost myself
Inhaling and exhaling
Rapidly increasing
Accelerating
I couldn't stop
Sobbing
Trying to recapture
Composure
Clawing at the wall
Doubled over
Wide eyed

How long it had been
Sitting there alone
Terrified that you heard me
From the other end of the phone

Oh and if we were the co-authors of this dear life,
What a beautiful ballad, together, we'd write!
And if it were left onto our hands
The world could then see the depth of our plans

But it is written by a maker more clever than we
Twists and turns in the works make us hold on to see
For He knows much better than you would or I
For our wants are decided, our needs are supplied

I hated her
I used to
The way she silently scribbled of you
On used napkins with borrowed pens
Loving someone who would never return
It stung but she craved it
The rhymes helped with the burn

I hated the way that she cared
The way she held on
The way she was scared
Her lingering devotion
Hands tangled in wrought
Loved the way that she wrote
Hate the way that she thought

Now, I want to be her
Again, I always will be her
The one that documents asides
Of you, in the margins of my notebook
Of your curly thick locks
As they go from midnight to cloudy
As laugh lines settle
Into our seasoned smiles
As crow's feet form
On our twinkling eyes
I'll forever write of how you bewitch me

When the room was clear and stage was dark
I felt a pang inside my heart
As I looked to where you used to be
I sighed a familiar sigh

The sigh that knows your name
But does not need to utter the syllables
Because even if it is not said
It knows that I sigh for you
I cry for you
I'd lie for you
But I hide from you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
Every love song, in soprano
Serenades in smoky rooms
With low voices whispering in your ear
Soothing you into a trance
If you come closer, you can hear
My yearning voice for you
You can almost feel
My light touch across you dance

I compare stories of every love 
I have ever heard
To our tale, in my mind
Like a kindergartner trying to cut out a picture
Based on a pattern held with stubby hands
I line the edges up just right and see what fits into us

Oh, I look around and hope you are there
To notice me
To think of me
To dream as I do
As if I were the only girl you had ever loved
The only girl you are capable of loving
The only girl you want
But what can I give you?

I've waited a long time
And I'm pretty sure I'd wait again
Because I'm your fool
A jester 
That's performing only for your applause
For you to admire from the first row
To clap your hands and shout "Bravo!"

Trapped in a screen
You set the scene
Se-er of constellations
Dreamer of dreams

Midnight confessions
Starstruck impressions
You tell the tale
You make your digressions

Roads turn to fork
Thumbtack on cork
I fear that you'll only
Live in your work