I opened a book
And it contained you
A big picture with such intricate lines
Curves and dips and angles that wove through each other

I read through the paragraphs that described
Your hair and blue-grey eyes and crooked smile
The ones that held the secrets of your laugh and
The softness of your skin

And I read through a page or two that told me how you
Smoke and drink and sometimes had a little too much fun
And I loved you all the same because we are all a little flawed

And I hope that you someday open my little book
Skim through its pages and read about how I
Was sad and sorry and a little under the weather
For the better portion of my high school years...

And I hope that you love me even more....

I will look at you out of the corner of my eye and smile, perhaps just grin, because you are beautiful and you are my human being. That’s how I’ll prove it.

I will wake up during the night while you are tossing and turning and I will lay a hand on your cheek, trace patterns into the skin of your back and whisper kisses into your eyelids. I will tell you how lovely you are and press my lips to your temples, to your jawline. That’s how I’ll prove it.

I will keep giving you glasses of water when you are sick and running a fever and I will force cup after cup into your hands when you’ve a little too much to drink, because hangovers can be a *****, and I don't like to see you hurting. That’s how I’ll prove it.

I will braid your hair and run my fingers through the knots until the strands are like water and silk and I will tug on it ever so lightly. That’s how I’ll prove it.

And I will crawl in bed beside you and kiss the hollow between in your collarbone and I will kiss your chin and both of your shoulders and breathe you in because your skin is so soft and warm. I will rest my cheek on your chest and listen to that heartbeat, strong and low and consistent because to hear you being alive makes me alive. That’s how I’ll prove it.

And I will love you. I will love you. I will love you.

That’s how I’ll prove it.

A child
Has it's small hands wrapped around the throat of the world
The clouds are at it's beck and call, serving up dripping ice cream cones
and kittens playing with yarn
High up in the sky
And the wind is there to serve, to cool a sweaty face or push a small red kite
Ever higher

We are at the mercy of the storm after we lift our fingers from the gasping
Esophagus of a dying sun
Our lives will wither our bones will crumble
Because of all the rain crashing through them
Like the excess water running through the storm gutters

And we can't prevent the stars from burning out but by God we feel like
we could save an entire galaxy from the certain death of time
Just like I can see the suns dying in yours yet new ones are igniting
And flaming
And fueling
To bring this internal shine that lifts the hearts of angels
Of angels



Please
Bring your hands to your ears and cover them with your palms
Do not listen to the voices of thousands, child
For we are one people and you are one person
One atom amongst this mass of writhing bodies
Writhing DNA

Talk strong stand stronger
Because sometimes the wind will try and knock you over
Try and shake your hollow bones
Your steel bones
Your transparent frame
It will shake your roots and pull at your hair and tear your confidence

But be firm. Be soft and hard and small and large
Be everything you want others to be.

I don’t know if you realized this but for most of the night, I looked you; looked at your profile and your fine, straight ***** nose. Looked at the curve of your forehead and delicate indent under your cheekbones. I couldn’t get enough of this beautiful configuration of atoms sitting next to me.

And for most of the night we laid in our seats and we were always touching, A hand, a few fingers, an arm or our heads. And your warmth transferred to me, and mine to you. We were these two small stars amidst the glowing sea of city lights spread out below us. And we stayed like that for hours.

After all of this, I can’t believe that a person like me would be so lucky as to have found a person like you. Because you are the moon and the small flakes of snow that fall silently at night and you are the hushed whisper that I wish I could hear saying “I love you” at night.

Because I would say the same thing back.

We rescue heartless wolves
Then fear the crime of saving them

And once upon a time we were both the sunrise and sunset
But the land that we believed was mythical ended up being real

I am made of playful creatures and constantly swirling sand
You are made of delicate glass and tangled hair that slips through my fingers

But together we do not belong
Because the flowers we grew are making a pathway

To carry our imminent death
Closer

Dear J,
     What if we became friends again? What if we began trading music again, or sharing secrets, or reveling at mortal sunsets that last but half an hour? Sometimes, well, lately, I've been tempted to ask how you're doing, ask if you want to get coffee sometime. I wonder what we'd talk about, if we'd sit in awkward silence, or laugh in embarrassed stupor at the folly our cut up relationship is. Or would we just stare? Look at each other with wide eyes, sip our coffee and smile occasionally.
     Or maybe we'd talk like nothing ever went wrong, like we never stopped telling each other how our days went, or what new music we had recently discovered.
     But who's to know? We have never tried to talk again, not even said a tired hello or strained good morning. Out hands have never brushed, nothing but out clothing ever touching.
     Our heights are still finely tuned to each other, even though we're dawning on the second year of silence. Did we ever make a truce? Or did you decide that your confirmation of us never being friends again was enough? I felt so empty when you told me that; told me nothing would ever come from us. You claimed it was because we loved each other too much, and that we'd just fall into the same trap as before. And maybe that's true.
     Or maybe we would have stayed best friends who shared coffee and clothed and beliefs and thoughts. Maybe we would have gone down different paths; you a straighter one, me a less travelled one. But it would have been a path with you on it, so either way it would have been okay.
     But what if if we never loved each other like lovers? What if it was loving each other as friends, as siblings? We could have seen each other grow up over the past four years.
    We've become much more since we've last spoken. And we'll continue to change and differ as we keep the distance between us.
     And maybe someday I'll walk up to you, shake your hand, and you won't recognize me; because we've spent years shoving the thoughts of each other to the backs of our memories.
    We'll introduce each other, I'll smile and say I recognize you. You might look a little closer at me, smile awkwardly when you realize who I am. And then we'll continue walking our separate ways.
     And we'll keep the past to ourselves.

               Love,
                   Claire

I lay my head down on my pillow
          it is soft and down, a sheeps underbelly
I can't help but to whisper to the stars
          "how is the weather up there? come down here."
There's a breeze knocking on my window
          it wants to lie by my side and share warmth
A bit of snow catches in the drifts on the sills
          i can become a snowflake whenever i'd like
They tell me that the world isn't good anymore
          they tell me that i can't play god like I used to
I look up at the ceiling
          *and i let go....