you promised me mountains
while we dozed
in our sunday best,
even though we never touch
on religion.
i can hear your lungs like
thunder, it is sick of
this place
just as much as every
person who
just wants a taste
of summer with its
heavy humidity and
pregnant skies
daring to give birth
right on top of us.
some of us beg for
the rain,
the pollen covers our magnetic
skin.

that's how i felt when
you left for a sunshine
second.

our zones were tired and
nervous that we couldn't
hold on for much longer.

so i wait.
i can't tell you how many
glances down to my feet
it took to turn off the
faucet that was about to
bust out of my tear ducts
and nasal passage.
it was pretty gross.
but so was the train tracks
across my toes,
i'm pretty sure i didn't see
that thick metal
through the peripherals.
but hey,
i could have just blinked.
or i'm blind.
these eyes are seeing double,
as if i had a strong swig of
battery acid.
it's okay, my mama always said
it was best to sleep it off
my shoulders and
write it in my spine for
another day.
and so it goes,
i'll pull down the covers and
let this fossil bury
down in my
ribs
so one day, i
could read you to
sleep.

i could almost read your lips
through the biting tones the wind made.
we laughed like children as we fished
for our kites in the brightest of blues
we have ever seen,
and there wouldn't be anywhere else
i'd rather be
with your feather fingers
and coffee tongue.
my knobby knees kissed your
stitched up toes
and i heard your heart buzz
through the chest plate,
like there was a bee hive
waiting up for summer.

i woke up to you thawing out my
frozen body,
and i knew it the moment
you made a splash
in the reminisces
of my rusted out
bolts
and puzzled the
cardboard drawings
i left out on the back porch
where we listened to the collisions
the chimes felt,
but there was nothing more beautiful
than the sound waves
we could commit
and our
bodies could talk for hours
like the days bled into
weeks.
i have forgotten my
drowning wells
and held onto the thought
that you could
find me
in the trees
with more pennies
that etched my thoughts
and the stories
i have of you.

i found you on the train tracks one day,
folding paper into flowers and big love
and throwing them into the atmosphere
thinking the wind would catch it.
it didn't, so i did instead.
i tossed it away like stones in my driveway,
i could make it to the woods,
and the distance always seemed farther
than it
really was.

i can't even talk,
like the movements could
liquefy my only thoughts
for some sort of evaluation
of how time can
sprint at full velocity to reach
nothing at all and
how minutes can drag more
than that of lips against
cigarettes that hold
messages.
i can't talk,
yet i feel with my eyes,
like i have microscopic nerves
flowing in my vision,
and only i can formulate
the ***** words on the
clothes line in the
backyard.
i know where my laundry has been,
but i'm not sure if you do.
i can't talk,
this phase has boiled my
letters on the stove,
in which you stir it up
and pretend that this tastes
like tea.
i can't talk,
especially when referred as
that one girl who once
forgot her morals
and got lucky
that one time.
i forgot to talk,
when i was perched
up on telephone wires
like birds who have
nowhere else to go,
and i wanted to
scream
to say i finally could
hear myself.

i guess that's why public speaking isn't my thing.

i think cavemen were beautiful
with their primitive actions to
sculpt bare rocks and minerals
into tools to reach out to hearts.
they had their own language,
like countries i've never been to
or tribes i wish to witness
because even the minimum
was pure and enough
to keep their thoughts racing,
to push them to feel life
through fingertips and dancing.
i think this earth used to be
beautiful, with gallons of
salt water surrounding
one entity, we were once
all connected before
we were able to take our
first gasp of oxygen,
before we could communicate
how the earth was not flat
and circulated to
let the light take over the
heavy and forget what
heat is during the
ice coverings for 90
shaded days.
i think we forgot how to
really let our blood
strengthen our bodies,
using complex chemicals
to ease reality because
we know we are wrong at times
and right when we can't turn
back centuries.
we breathe to taste our
own ignorance,
when really we should be
breathing to feel alive,
but the numbers don't
change and we tend to
only care for ourselves.

cavemen gave and gave and gave
until they couldn't breathe in the
light anymore and the energy
moved on to the next,
like how ionic bonds
result in a positive
or negative charge.
sometimes our structures
aren't so step by step,
but our feet can take over
for that.

it is our time to take over and
****** our ideas out for the taking,
but i'm nervous we won't make it.

i'm scared that everything we've known
will fall down to the mantle of our
beautiful planet because
my generation
was too worried
about the little
things.