Tell me who you are.
Tell me what makes you tick.
Do you like the sound of rain?
Or do you prefer the sun?
Do you eat dessert for breakfast?
Or breakfast for dinner?
Is coffee what you crave in the morning?
Or is your first thought a nicotine fix?
Do you sleep peacefully?
Or do you lay awake tormented?
Do your skeletons dance in the closet?
Or do ghosts hide under your bed?
Do you prefer the storm?
Or revel in the stars?
What do you need to get through your day?
And do you think I could ever be one of those things?

you told me you liked blondes,
so i bleached my hair.

you said you preferred coffee to tea,
so i made espresso every morning.

and you told me you loved me,
but then you found a girl with dark hair,
who actually liked coffee
and didn't love you back.

so you boxed up my heart,
and mailed it to me with no return address,
because you told me i had changed.

and i went back to brunette,
and drank my chamomile with two sugars,
and never opened that box again.

i remember when the trickling sound of rain frightened me; pattering against the windowpane in the dead of night like creaky fingers belonging to my fears.
first, they were the dark, and roller coasters with skittish tracks from old-timey days, and monsters under the bed with long arms waiting to wrap me into them.
those changed, quite how most everything does, into those of melancholy love, and unrequited love, and the constant worry of fairytale endings rattling in my mind until it turned into gunk and spewed out my ears, doing anything i can to get it out, out, out.
my dear, i await the days where there is nothing to be afraid of, though they may not come soon.
we are impatient beings not designed for the way the world works on its own; outside of who we are.
and yes, my fears remain, but no longer am i afraid of the rain.

To behold the full glory
of the pearl,
open your heart
to the oyster's
pain.

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your *******,
the doubled purple
of your *******,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.