she crumbled,
                                   out of
the envelope & into
                               my palm

  dissolved into my fingers
in her own world breaking
                                         way

in there,where two magpie
sit                      cross-legged,
the air carries kismet like a
newborn                     crying
    at the very semblance
of the long      walk     away.

share your favorite things with the temporary people in your life
staple your favorite songs to the foreheads of people you've known for two weeks
dance around in artificial lightning and touch them for as long as you can
take pictures with disposable cameras, pin them to cork-boards and write down their dates
scrawl their names in sharpie ink on your wall, ignore when your mother gets mad at you for it
watch your favorite movies with them
kiss them during your favorite part
write down the taste
write down what you hear
fill notebooks with their sentences
take their hand and lead them to your favorite places
count the blades of grass under you
record the rocks
the tree leaves
the sand
the hardwood floor
read them your favorite books
tell them your theories
match them to main characters and laugh when they try to imitate their dialect
read them your poetry
whisper your favorite words in their ear
pass them notes with your favorite lyrics
give them tastes of your favorite ice cream flavor
promise yourself not to forget their disgusted face
at your favorite weird food
smear the color yellow into their palms
because it has always been your favorite
trace the lines that crack the paint
give them your favorite sweatshirt
let them make it their home
smell them on you the next time you wear it
let them enter your world and include them in your list of favorites
and
then

when they break your heart,
you will be forced to conform to the sadness you feel
you will have to turn off the radio when that song comes on and you see their smile in the melody
you will have to pay for a new camera
burn pictures and blame the smoke for your teary eyes
stock up on white-out and erase those dates
when they pass the next year you will stay inside all day and your hands will shake
you will have to paint a new color on your wall just to quit staring at their name while you try to fall asleep
you will paint three, four, five coats atop their handwriting and
at night you will still be able to see it
you will have to go to the movies and categorize new favorite scenes
when that movie plays on sunday morning you will taste them and it will taste like cold coffee and
eventually you will be strong enough to change the channel
you will tear pages out,
buy new notebooks
drive by your favorite places and don't stop
you will have to read new pages
find new characters
its okay if you catch yourself running over the spine of the book you woke them up to read at four AM
buy a dictionary and find new favorite words
make up new favorite words and drop them into casual conversation
eat new icecream,
try more weird foods at restaurants you can't pronounce
look at colors more closely and determine a new favorite
buy new clothes
ones that smell like mass production and the local mall
you will leave the world you gave to them
and you will create a new world
with new favorites
with new songs, words, memories, places, books, movies, foods
with new pieces of you
and you will let someone new enter that world
they will tear chips of paint off of your wall
and ask you what your favorite color is
its okay to hesitate
say blue.

I’ll tell my mom about the love that you want.

I’ll tell her you’re wrong, but in my heart, I agree.
I act like I'm blind but tear down anything to see.

Your affections—they are my drug, and I am a closeted addict.

Now, I admit to the desires your flirtations imply.
I confess it in my manifesto that I will soon deny.

I’ll persuade even myself that you are nothing.

The tension in my mind frays the walls of my secret.
The weight of the burden makes it hard for me to keep it.

To confide in you and love your precious soul.

I privately proclaim my feelings as I whisper my love onto this page.
My desperate silence begs me to break out—to rage and to rage.

one of my biggest fears is
that I'll work a 9 to 5 job
that I despise and drains me

I don't want to work a job that pays the bills
and is physically and emotionally draining
I want to do what I love and make good money

I know that that sounds naive
but I see the effects the menial job
that kills you slowly
taking everything out of you
with barely any energy at the end of the day

So many women
have tried to change you

she said with her head
on my shoulder

as rain pellets battered
the windshield

and red-orange strips
of celluloid

flashed in my mind
jumpy jittery

but beautiful
nonetheless

i forget it all
when i see your face
i remember it all
when i breathe your taste
when the world stops
i seem to look at you
face another way
watching the world go on
pleading for attention
efforts that aren’t enough
trying to seem tough
while i’m in love
we are soul tied
at the feet
grey and pink
sinking hearts lie beneath