yellow and blue,
yellow and blue,
isn't it nice
when I think about you?

summer crickets
and somersaults,
can I really claim
that this wasn't my fault?

sprinkles of freckles
and sparkling green eyes,
were all of our days
just drawn out goodbyes?

daisy doodles
and bright white smiles
crashing my car
and sprinting for miles

sunshine lemons
and trampolines,
come to think of it,
we were so ******* mean

yellow and blue,
yellow and blue,
when the river's run dry...
what do I do?

it sneaks up on you
and it follows you
you know?
like a ******* shadow
and then you forget it's there
because sometimes the sun shines
and sometimes the sound of laughter
and the beating of hearts
scares it away
but then it always, always
finds a way back to you
and devours you

you know?

the other day
I filled up my tank
and got the cost to a clean dollar amount
right on the dot.
seeing that .00,
I thought it would feel great.
it really wasn't all that exciting.
I just figured it was all too expensive anyway
and so I just left.

somebody once told me,
"we fell in love with each other's words,
not each other's hearts."
well, I don't get it.
don't words come from your heart?
you're lucky you even got them.
I mean, we are what we say, right?
like, what would we be
if we had the sweetest hearts
but said the meanest things?
would we be liars?
who's to say?
if you were showered in flower petals of sweet nothing's,
then that person's heart must at least believe
what the mouth is spilling,
right?
I don't know.
maybe I'm just confused.

but ignoring somebody.
when ignoring happens,
the heart doesn't "think" about anything at all.
and it probably hasn't for a while.
so, thanks.

tonight you told me
to remember this, in
your own way -- levity
leading the forefront;
"that(this) one night
when you stayed up
late, sewing and [stap]
[-ling] and otherwise
binding these little sheaves
of poetry for gifts to be
distributed the next day."

we relax and shrug off
the somewhat gruesome
dealings of the early evening,
speaking of perception and
human interfacing[projection].
a discussion of some deeper
thoughts followed, however
the part of me that still
wears footsie pajamas wouldn't
stop pulling on my arm.
as the clock hit 11:40, i went
to bed, turning briefly at the
stairs to say:
"merry christmas."

I told you that you kissed like you were in a hurry.
and that sounds bad
because everything's always in a hurry,
especially trains and people and heartbeats
especially the eventual wane of affection
and we both know that heaven forbid
our kisses should have an expiration date
when that inevitable phase chisels down
and god forbid
our kisses should be the cause

but that's not what I meant.
I meant
you kiss like you mean it
and I've never been kissed with meaning.
you kiss like the world is on your lips
you kiss like that excited feeling that you get
when one is on a train and hurtling towards a destination and the train could never go fast enough.
you kiss with your hands and your eyes and your voice like silver
you kiss like nothing could stop you,
as if your personality could kick down doors.

you know what, **** it.
I'm not going to pretend like I'm an articulate person.
all I know is that I've been floating around all day,
kissing people's cheeks
and grinning to myself
and feeling my heart flutter
because I get to see you all over again
and kiss you
and I've never been this unapologetically, unashamedly happy in my life.
and everybody can see it written all over my ******* face,
but I don't give eight cares about them.

we drove through snowbanks today;
one for the first time behind the wheel
-- one with his eyes fixed on the road
and me, just another passenger along
for the ride.
                   it was still lacing over the
world with white, like nature pulling
up her comforter and settling herself in
for the season -- heavy down muting even
the quietest quiets; we followed suit, put
on the smiths and sent our tumultuous
evening back to bed to curl up with a
blanket or two, swap stories with tucked-
in and tuckered out madam nature until
we realize we're still alive -- and at this
juncture (both figurative and literal)
during the supposed shift in energy,
spiritual awakening, consciousness, etc,
we embraced the contradictory side
of our cynical teenage bodies and
sent our thoughts back to sleep with
the current of his lilting voice and the
subsequent waterfall of grieving
piano notes, tinkling and sending
splinters of icy shivers down each
of our spines as we drove on through
the gently imposed quiet of a cold
down comforter.

SometImes I wonder
if you ever knew, exactly how happy I waS,
WiTh you

SometImes I wonder
couLd you ever see, the joy in my eyes
When you were with me

Sometimes I wonder
if you can recaLl, the days when Summer
Turned into FaLl

SOmetimes I wonder
if I'm still your muse, or if you'd sing for me
The way you'Ve used to

SomEtimes I wonder
what the hell happened, now to You I am
Only a has-been

Sometimes I wOnder
if you still think of me when you walk past that
StUmp in the cemetery

because i always notice
the little changes in
my twos and capital As,
the slant replacing a
deceptive curve in the
final letter of my name,
the necessary angles
and perpendicular
attitude of my things,
seeking control in
unconventional
places, because i
can't seem to get
a firm handle on
anything else.
incomplete people
with little habits
of a partner
to smooth out
their edges and
fill in their flaws
are luckier than
those who have
to do it themselves.