i don't really know.
it's just that,
you plant a garden in my heart
and grow tulips.
you write a children's book in my mind
and read it to me until i fall asleep.
you are the windows rolled down
and new music.
you are fresh linen
and clean hair.

i must describe you so ordinarily
so the earth won't feel so bad about itself.
but it should feel honored
to hold something as special as you.

a.h.d.

numbers are either big or small
935 is a big number
considering if you have 935 elephants in your bedroom
but 935 is a small number
considering if there's 935 fish in the sea
and there are far less pencils in your backpack
than 935
and far more mosquitoes in Alberta
than 935
but 935 is an enormous number
counting the miles between me and you
and 935 is a minuscule number
when measuring how much my heart aches when you're gone
and when asked how it feels to miss you
i will always reply with
"like 935 tons weighing on my heart"
'cause if i had the chance,
i would love you 935 times over
and i would choose you
in 935 other lives
and in a crowd of 935 people
i would only look for you
and i would cry 935 tears each night
just for you to love me back

numbers are either big or small
and 935 is neither

a.h.d.

there's an optical phenomenon
in places where palm trees grow.
God himself takes his pallet of paint
and mixes.
as the yellow sun descends into it's resting place,
the blue ocean engulfs the burning ball.
and for a split second,
there is a green flash.
people stare intensely for minutes
to witness 1-2 seconds.
blink,
and you'll miss it.
some never see it,
some don't even believe it exists.

i like to think that when we met
God took his paintbrush and made the most beautiful colour.
your brilliant soul mixed with my dismal aura.
for that fragment in time,
there was a flash.

maybe you didn't see it.

a.h.d.