"I wonder if guardian angels cry when they see it all play out;
and as they stand with their hands tied,
do they cry out loud?"**

I wonder if they ached,
when I fell in love with you the first time.
Did they shout, "Stop! You've chosen the wrong one!
Go back, this is your warning sign!"

Or if they begged God
to let them step in
when I was 16 and took too much
of my mother's prescription medicine.

Or if they stared down at me in resentment,
when I ignored the voice in the back of my head
that told me to walk on the main roads
instead of taking that back alley instead.

I wonder if they stand around my bed
when I lay empty and unloved,
wanting to reach out and hold me
but being held back by the realms above.

I wonder if they want to apologize
for my life that didn't go as planned.
And to tell me that their intentions were good,
but interfered with by the evil of man.

I wonder if they would apologize,
for not being loud enough when I made the wrong choice.
And I wonder how many times they've broken the rules of Heaven,
just to make sure that I could hear their voice.

Or if they'd tell me that they've always been watching,
but sometimes human desires overpower their will.
Would they tell me that these things my fault?
Do my guardian angels care, still?

Because the world keeps spinning faster,
and it seems everyone is only out for themselves...
but I wonder if our guardian angels live in regret
because of the times they couldn't save us from ourselves.

I like you.
Yes, quite a bit I do.

Just about as much as I like the stars,
and quite a bit more than I like cars.

I like you as much as a like the trees,
it's safe to say that you're the bees knees.

I like you more than I like drugs,
and one of my favorite places to be,
is wrapped in one of your hugs.

i parked my car just up the hill
from your  house  and it was
dark but  i  think  your  tv
was on (i wonder what
show you've decided
to smother yourself
in this summer)
and my fingers
were tingling
and i was
having
trouble
figuring
out how
my lungs
worked and
i   turned   my
engine  o f f  and
tried  to  walk  up
to your door, really,
i  did  but  then  i  saw
your  plants   o n    the
porch and  the  garden
in the yard that y o u
love so much and i
remembered  that
those things do
not belong to
m e,  t h e y
belong to
her. and
so do
you.
and as
much  as
i   want   to
hear your voice
(because even after
only  this  short  time
i t ' s  become fuzzy
in the back of my
mind and in my
dreams)  it   is
not   mine  to
w o r s h i p
anymore.

when we met, it was tipsy tuesday and donnie had swollen fingers
and nate sank into his plaid frock and dropped his shadow
on the patio like a heavy slug, and the flies
cavorted in the vortex of our subtext
as the night skies spat stars
at our foreheads.

you were beautiful;  too beautiful then.

i was smitten, i was tossed on stormy seas, unsick.
i was healed. the world spun filth and dull glamour
but your face hurled fireworks
and my mind leaned into my heart
and i knew i loved you.
whoever you turned out
to be.

i babbled and groped, as the inertia
of falling, filled my sails
and I was purposefully adrift -
in your brown-black eyes;
as a dog fetched a frisbee
for an illiterate.

and i think i bit my lip a bit.

I saw you for the first time.
for the last time
in my life
and was never
the same.

my heart, now more precise.

you had fierce speech
underneath your sweet speak
and long hair.
i had you in my soul's yurt
on a plain of windswept pavilions
with free horses and costly
remoteness.
i was ' there ' less
and more somewhere else
alone with the perfect you
reading my lips
as they tremored
delight of it.

i babbled speechless.

i remember you tossing your locks
at my cage. and i was set free.

please add me to your wishlist
and complete me.

In another life,
I would not be the girl
I am today.

I would not be
too pale
too freckley
too fat
too awkward
too lonely
too quiet
too much of a pushover
too oily
too pimpley
too plain.

In another life
I imagine myself
as a silent assassin.
With power and might;
I glide the rooftops
and dominate the night.

In another life
I am a sassy bad girl.
I'd pop off in seconds,
and attack with cunning skill,
so that none would mess with me,
unless they'd want to get killed.

In another life
I am a thin and hollow body,
a nameless maiden who roams
halls of white tile.
Donned in a buckled down
white jacket that crosses
at the arms so I constantly
get to hug myself.

In another life
I am not
the girl I am today.
I would be someone,
with a story worth telling.