I remember you told me that the first thing about me that you fell in love with were my eyes
You said it was because at first you couldn't tell what color they were
Maybe the color of coffee with too much milk
Or the shade of a dozen olives sitting in a mason jar
You couldn't help but notice the splashes of blue
That twinkled like a handful of icy diamonds sewn into an emerald dress
Mystery eyes
Mystery girl
Is what you said
And from that moment on you let me call you late at night
And kiss you on the cheek
And leave notes in the pockets of your sweatshirts
And when you told me for the first time that you loved me
There was not a trace of doubt in me as I looked into your own curious eyes
Pooling like maple syrup
As amber as a drop of sap
I always was a sucker for brown eyed boys

HE was the one to glue her back together when she had broken apart. She was left by Another.
A heap.
A mess.
And HE came along, a homemade superhero, to bandage her cuts and ice her sores and nurse her back to health.
At her every word, HE bent a listening ear. If she had talked for years, HE wouldn't have flinched.


Another came back.
She grabbed her things and dashed off, into Another's arms again, the same arms capable of crushing.

Ok
HE said

That's fine
HE said

Lucky for her, HE packed her some glue just in case

I lay on my bed and look up at the ceiling fan spin in circles
Around and around and around and around
And somewhere it could be raining
Maybe a block away
Or maybe a mile away
There are girls who splash in the puddles and track mud through their houses and get the couch wet and take hot showers and watch the rain drops racing down the window
I want to be the girl to dance in the rain
But instead I'm the girl who lays on her bed watching the ceiling fan

We were scattered across the globe like ashes.
Every muscle, every joint, every bone and vessel dissolved into a heap of powder small enough to hold in your palm
And we threw ourselves to the wind to be blown all over the world

Eventually, we will grow old together deep down in the soil and in between layers of sand and rock. Our fingers will turn into root and once again intertwine.

But for now we are particles of the earth, lost to each other and ourselves
Ashes.

She was like the four seasons
Changing month by month
And she in turn changed who I was
When I met her once
The day I met her was in spring
When all the world was in bloom
She wiped the tears off of my face
And chased away the gloom
In summertime she was the sun
My world was burning bright
She held me tight when we would sleep
And chased away the night
Then autumn came in on a breeze
My girl was rich and bold
She wrapped blankets around my skin
And chased away the cold
But when winter came creeping upon us
The lady could bear it no longer
Told me "I can't always be your crutch."
I begged her "But I'm getting stronger!"
All the wounds she had mended
The damage inside would unfurl
I had finally found me a lover
But I chased away my girl

Haunted in the dark, I extrude the year from my brain, and shuffle them one by one; the pieces that I have built up around me. It is my fortress and my prison. The walls are painted with bikes racing through town and notes passed in class. Late night messages hang from the lights, and sinking suns dance across the tiles. The promise to never come back to this forsaken town hangs thick in the air. 300 60 5 snapshots float like lanterns around me. I could dance in them and I could die in them all at once. The bond. The distance. The promise. The reality. The new faces. The turned faces. The hope. The fall. I push it all away with every scratch of my pen until the air is empty and eerie, until I'm left laying alone in the 2 o clock indigo blue

this is the progress of things
burning boys like him
chase after doe-eyed and malleable girls like her
that will be grasped too tightly
and one day evaporate like smoke
into the air
for awhile every sunrise will be baby-pink with hope
and every sunset crimson with desire
but soon he will go to sleep
and image that he can see the seasons passing before his eyes
the captured cache looses luster
and the sunsets are hidden
behind thick layers of clouds
he will say that what follows is hard
but it is easy
like blowing out a candle
you purse your lips and you exhale
and the light that was there moments ago
is gone
curling smoke up into the air
the boys like to play with fire
and the most dangerous game always ends with the same thing.
loss.