In the morning with the bright rays,come my first thoughts:

count
count

Then its time for breakfast
count faster
count faster

By lunch I am clutching my hair
Did miss anythig?

Dont forget to count
Dont forget to count

Time for dinner....but I messed up my counting!
count
count

Oh no
....
I had too much

my dad sighs and walks up the stairs
and i don't have many secrets,
but writing things down feels like one.
telling you i don't just want to see the grand canyon,
i want to see you there,
that feels like a secret.

i used to use index cards as book marks so i could neatly write down my favorite quotes/lines from the pages and sometimes i wish i took more pictures so i could do that with moments.
sometimes things last, but sometimes things aren't supposed to,
and i think i'd like to have a few pictures of what time won't let me take with me
(i should take more pictures of the people that make me smile, just in case)

let's remove the layers of clothes separating us
(you're looking me in the eyes again)
my shirt comes off
(your lips are against my ear)
my fingers fumble around your belt loops
(you're kissing down my stomach)
i want to press my palms against your cheeks and rest your head to my chest
i want to tell you how much you mean to me
over and over and over

okay my fingertips are glass and i've only used the edges for myself
but while i'm tracing your back I am careful to keep from pricking
and sometimes when we kiss
it feels like we connect and float and glide
and you know they say dancers are really sensitive to movement,
we know how every adjustment means something
every swoop of the head and blink of the eye
and every time you touch my spine
the dancer in me leaps into meaning,
because the way your head tilted is art enough to put to music

There is a tide
Roaring up to my toes
As I am glued
To this crummy sand
This sand was God's plan
To bread the ashes
So we can store it in Poseidon's belly
I was the leftovers
From the City Hopkins Dance
Be kind
The sob stories
Are locked up
With the " how do you do's"
And the "I'm feeling fine"

There is a tide
Roaring up to my knees
People need to stop pleading
If they noticed me
Lurking in the shadows
Tied down behind them
They were too busy
With the racket ***** on recess
Maybe I could believe in it
Every white lie
Wiped across their unconcerned faces.

There is a tide
Roaring up to my wounded heart
Yes the heart
The heart that lays in my chest
The same chest that you laid on
Strawberries
That was the last thing I remember
About you