Understand the noise
to value the
silence.

a mole to kiss
for good luck,

the cut you
got as a child,

I keep reading
your body,

your story...

You got me hooked on Moleskin journals.
It might not seem like much,
but when you consider that it's the vessel
into which I daily pour myself,
Like some bank account, holding all my emotional savings,
it's a pretty substantial influence.
So thanks.

You got me hooked on being known.
Not the "name her favorite color/album/flavor" kind of known.

The "ask me how I am, because you hear the trace amounts of fakeness in my laughter" kind of known.



Before you,
I thought being loved was like being admired but on steroids.

Now I see it's more like

a quiet walk
home from class every evening.

there are a dozen other ways,
different bike routes or
back roads you could take

but you would never think to.

Your day would be incomplete without the path your feet
first were drawn to,

you can't bear to miss it
the winding bends in the road and the blossoms you always pause to breathe in.

both familiar and new every evening.