i let my mind rest on the idea of you
and a four hour car ride became four minutes
it lingered on the sound of your voice
and the shape of your smile
and the rim of your glasses
and wondered if you lingered
even a little bit,
on the idea of me
or if i’m just imagining us both
humming on the same pitch
i dont really know you well
i can count the words we’ve exchanged on my fingers
and you always said the first ones
i know half the things i’ve thought of you
might not even be somewhat true
there’s only so much i knew and the rest
i’m pretty sure i just construed
so hey,
if you don’t mind,
tell me the little things about you…
rather than an idea, i’d like it if you were
a reality

i cut my hair off once
i used to feel the ends tickle my back
but then i ran my fingers through my hair and
reached my shoulders.
i held my head higher and stood taller.
see
there's a saying that when you cut your hair short
you get a new beginning.
once those frayed ends are let loose,
a new life opens its doors for the new you.
but i didn't see a new door so
i cut it again and
now its too short for my liking.
and i hold the door shut.
i guess i have to grow it out again before
i try anything else with it.

i close my eyes . . .
your lips brush mine like a dream
your fingertips lay on mine
as a musician's before he plays a masterpiece
a whisper wafts around my hair,
toying with it lovingly
i suppose that's when i realized
reality is a daydreamer's playground
and you are my best friend.
we hold hands like
we don't want to let go but even if we do we never really do
and we run like our legs are trying to catch up
with our heartbeats--
i always run a little faster with you.
music sounds like your laughter over the phone at 2 am
and your footsteps beside me
and your endless ways of saying "i love you."
you are my greatest symphonies and my
most quiet hums.
you are an unbreakable pinky promise.
you are a dream and you are
all the stars and constellations that adorn my night sky

the grass tastes like candy and the flowers
sparkle like morning dew at twilight
the sun only comes out to say hello, like a passerby,
and the moon is a familiar friend
imagination becomes a reality and reality doesn't actually exist
and existence is just a dream

a letter is just a piece of paper
and ink is just a mess if it falls off a table
these are incredibly simple things but
i want to make them special
and special is a very broad term but
i mean as special as that burning, flaming desire to
give other people our entire lives worth of special

so if i shape the mess into words
and i craft the paper into a message
could you understand what special truly means to me
could you realize it encompasses all that you are
and could you hold me the way
pieces of paper soak up ink and
symbols soak up meaning and
romantic daydreamers soak up beautiful fantasies

with this burning, flaming desire i’ve lit the candlestick at both ends
crafting carefully the contents of my heart
into this letter for you.
and in calligraphy, too.
because i want to shape the ink to fit
the curves of your lips when you smile
and the creases of the paper to bend
your heart into knots like mine,
and you could imagine your favorite word
in my handwriting
and sometimes the meaning of special will be me
just as much as it is you

in wonderful pieces the sky falls down
while the little girl in the corner
nibbles on the uneven ends of her fingernails
she watches with widened eyes though blurred vision
and her stomach sinks lower and lower
there in the distance stood somebody that told her
she could hold the sky together
the clouds and the sun and the starry night were
completely within her grasp she just needs to reach out she'll be okay
its too far gone in the depths of memories faded for her
to now recall those words of wisdom
rather she continues to rock gently and shake nervously
because what is she to do? the sky is falling apart
in wonderful, wonderful pieces

i want to hold you the way
leaves hold drops of dew in the morning light.
behold,
the new day shines but
not as brightly as you, my dear