I got your letter the other day.
It was one of those professional ones,
with the address on top
and "respectfully yours" on the bottom.

I tried to read between the lines to see
what you were really trying to say,
about how you haven't been happy in years
and really only needed me
to remind you what that happiness felt like.

Instead, your mother had gone missing
(even though she's been missing from you for years)
and they didn't know how to find her.
You weren't convinced that she could be found,
or even wanted to be so.

I wanted to call you right then,
even though I didn't know what to say.
It will be okay (what if it won't?)
I'm here for you (even if I'm not the person you want)
How can I help (I'm a million miles away. Find someone else to hug)

Sometimes, I just want to send you my breath,
have it be laced with good intentions and good  vibrations.
Hopefully it says more than I ever could.

breakbendfeelmoan
they don't tell you about this in high school health class
textbooks stay closed and only experiences
lead lasting impression, much to disdain
of old foagies and superintendants

reachgrasppullarch
closet floors, bedsheets left with
roses blooming and a garden
of memories, fond or not

clampcloseopenbreath
once in a lifetime, twice in a nighttime
human turn to alien, alien back to human
breathe and breathe and breathe

holdclenchreachgasp
your soul, my soul, whose soul
was left in the morning light,
while i've got the proof on my
leftover laundry
is that bourbon,
or a double malted scotch
i smell on my pillowcase?

leave your stain as you found it
you won't have to worry about washing away.

If I promise not to empty my lint trap,
will you promise to come back
and reintroduce yourself as the "boy who likes the leaves on your wall"
to the girl who is "lucky enough to have beautifully colored lint,
kind of like a rainbow"?

It's the closest I've ever been told,
"she's like a rainbow".

I could stay up all night for you.
Not for your promises,
or for what I want to hear.

But just knowing that,
on the other end of this telephone,
or this interweb,
there's another soul
looking for just as much company as I am.

We d o better
when we e x i s t together,
not when we're t r y i n g to b e together.

home
let me come home
home is whenever I'm with you*

Home is where I forget how the earth feels beneath my feet,
because you leap so high and take me with you.

Home is what you call the static the moonlight makes
when it bounces off my floorboards at
1:47 am.

Home is when my mind hears those three chords and
it hits the same way it did the first time
(even if the twiddle and the bend are different now then they were before).

Home is whoever makes me laugh until milk
(and soup and coke and twinkies)
shoots out of my nose in a fit of glee.

Home is when I forget to take out my trash but manage to hide it
)in my sister's room(
and nobody gets in trouble.

Home is your sweater,
(and socks and trousers and suspenders and cap)
on my floor,
letting blue
(you)
melt into green
(me).

The beginning's are the worst for me,
but I prefer the middle, rather than the end;
I'll always enjoy the journey more than the destination.
Great for roadtrips, irritating for bedtime.

I've got baggage, but I don't want to talk about it.
I will listen to yours 'til the cows come home
(and offer you reasonable advice),
but I don't want you to fix me. I've been fixing myself for years.

I may leave you for the milkman,
but only because I have a longstanding relationship with dairy.
Take it as a compliment if I call you a cow.

I would rather help than be loved.
To me, they are not synonymous.
Just like writing in short lines
with even shorter
linebreaks
is not synonymous with poetry.

My rhyme scheme has little structure, but I expect your schema to have a story.

You have to play chess, but well enough to kick my *** occasionally.
Keep me humble.

I will probably be incredibly, secretly needy,
or ridiculously nonchalant.
What human being doesn't yearn for the other side of the looking glass?
My brains are always tumbling and rumbling, though.

Mister, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into.
Me neither.

I'd like to be protected by you,
even though I don't need it.
(I still believe in chivalry).
I like the idea that my honor is worth defending.

I'm still the same 3 year old soul, wandering around
with my microscope and plastic saxophone,
except this time it's linguistic puns and wh- questions
(especially why).
My favorite response being, why not?

I won't ask much of you,
just energy, a soul to squeeze, and a hand to hold;
a body to hug.
But don't worry, you'll get much in return
(probably too much,
at least that's what they tell me).

I talk too much, walk too slow, and am the most
awkwardpersonyou'llevermeet,
all tumbles and rumbles and wiggles.
But I've got a lot to say,
even though I'll always prefer to listen.

I want you to hit me
like a ton of bricks with good intentions.
There's a lot of fire, especially for you, young love.
My heart string and soul swing,
I am yours to mold and shape and croon
(but my heart is not an empty room).
You can move the furniture,
but once you hang up the paintings,
I might just want to keep it.

(That's what I'm worried about)
I want to set your world on fire,
and I want you to set mine alight
(but sometimes I lose the extinguisher).

I'm expecting
nothing
but hoping
for too much.
That's where my tongue gets tied-
I don't know how to take the reigns,
****** you,
or  make myself undeniable,
or irreplaceable.

I don't want to though,
because with enough time,
everything heals.
Memories are alive as long as you think of them.
But after you forget, they rest in peace.
I'd like to be your peace,
piece of apple pie, holy moly me oh my.

Don't fool my janglin' heartstrings
because they'll stretch andstretchandstreeeettch and bend 'til they break.

I don't like talking on the phone.
Make up your own ******* story.

Before this date,
I just want you to know
that I'm slightly crazy, completely ridiculous,
and have a few tales to spin from my fingertips.
(and I wiggle. too much)

I'll be your Jane if you can be my Alexander
or Tarzan.
Noah always needed a whale for his ark.
I probably already think you're funny and cute,
and I'll kiss you all starry eyed, my body swaying from side to side.

I actually don't know what I want.
But I'd like for you to be there when I figure it out.

You've got too many words on your tongue ******.
They're all smashing into my eyes, into my ears, into my great beyond.
I don't want your smash.
I want your careful teasing,
the smoke you ooze between your pearly whites, winking until your stained lips could sell the soul beneath the floorboards.
I want your come hither, stay thither stare that you so eloquently expressed in your *******! manuscript.
The manuscript that you said would save all the sorry souls,
and condemn your own.
"Listen to you. Listen to me. This is our dialogue"
I don't want your dialogue, and you sure as hell can't have mine.