Your hand reaches down
like a thousand raindrops to
outline my tired skin

Heavy breath, light
spirits
        as if my mind has at last
recognized the implications of not
   moving
           and decided to love and
                        love again.

I may not know
the amount of days
or weeks or months
or years
but I'm sure someday someone will
hold me
close at night
and breathe
"See you in the morning,"
into my ear.
And that thought
helps me sleep
until then.

It could have worked if we were older
Maybe in a few years you'll lean on my shoulder
on that hill, both back from college for summer
and you'll realize I'm your guy.
Or maybe not, maybe we'll be back
but you'll have a boyfriend that you love
more than you ever loved me
and I'll be asking a ******* a date to a movie
I'll see you holding his hand and I'll
remember what I wrote next to your name
in my phone

"Always take care of her even if it means
letting go"
Yeah it'll sting but then I'll smile
because I know
that I probably love you more than you will ever
be loved
You'll never know that but
seeing you happy is enough

And maybe you'll see me getting a girl's number
and you'll think back to that summer when you
gave me yours
Yeah it'll sting but you'll remember everything
that made you happy
Then you'll grab that boy and walk out that door
talking about how much you adore his
brand new hair cut
I'll look up and you'll be gone
possibly forever but
I have you in my heart
I'll always remember

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
Dry bones of Moses painted on my button down shirt screaming,
“to be or not to be” is not an English word.
In the daze of the thoughts of Neurology, I saw a man kick a bucket full of Starbucks giftcards down the avenue street. He screamed in pain as he watched the bucket tumble and roll down the street, blessing every Bohemian with a slight cold.

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
I dreamt about a land before man where the Oxygen that sprang from the pores of flowers
sang a sweet death. Where dishwashers are saints, for afterall, man will not be if not for food.
Where books are written not to be read, but for the sake of Orange trees that will grow in the future.
I once wore a poker face to a funeral and laughed at the man in the casket because the souls he had underneath him were two left feet.

*We all once had naked pictures of God on our nightstands but lost it after Einstein  
Lost the fried chicken war of 1812 to Isaac Newton.

I was told
that the lines in my hands
looked promising