A paper bag, an old woman’s hands, the obnoxious gap between my teeth;
Art, if you will.
Hearts racing, ***** gym floors, crying so hard you lose your breath.
Art.
It pumps thru our veins, wakes us up in the middle of the night to haunts our thoughts: its the reason I can never blow bubbles with this now tasteless piece of Trident.
That first tender kiss.
The missing sock, forever gone.
Its something about life.
That  holds us like that glue you used to put your mother’s favorite vase back together when she wasn’t home.
Its not knowing if you’ll have a place to lay your head down at night or when your next meal will be.
Real and raw.
Wide eyes and white smiles.
Art of wrinkles, art of death, art of hotel mattresses.
Art of this life, and your next one.

I fell in love with someone who couldn’t remember my Birthday.
I fell in love with someone who left the state for a month without telling me.
I fell in love with someone who didn’t believe in love.
I don’t believe in love either.
Now.
I fell for the man with the dark eyes and a carefree smile.
I fell for the flat foot, curly haired drunk.
Crackling voice chilled my bones.
Mother said I was too young to “know” to “understand”.
I agreed.
I was young.
This pain, however, did not come from being naive
of knowing when you’re falling for someone
who doesn’t believe in love.

He fell in love with me.
Hair brained, wide eyes. Me.
I wasn’t sure.
Surprise parties and kisses for my Birthdays.
Late night talks and late breakfasts.
He pleaded
and
I wasn’t in love.

I want to have ***.
Not like how you think.

I want someone to cling to me
Need me

People say great things to you
when you're having ***

They encourage you

“God, this is great...”
“You’re great...”

I’d imagine them staring into my eyes                                                             ­     
“You are a champion”
  
“You have your life in order, unlike what your mother says.”
“You got this.”

That encouragement would rock our bed
and
make the neighbors jealous

Too bad I’m here

Sipping some cold coffee
with two lumps of sugar
and
a broken heart

365 days in a year
seven days in a week

two days for fun,
until our time in the sun

Oh, summer, can you hear me?
I've been feeling kind of weary
My friends say I've been acting dreary

Help me out, help me out.

Ups and downs all around,
trying to turn this frown upside down

Oh summer, can you hear my cries?
These helpless pleas?
These dying sighs?

Look up, look up
The sky above
Tonight  I'll pray summer feel my love
sand between my toes,
my freckled spotted nose
whatever
            else
              goes
All I know...
there are 365 days in a year

We pretend,
We do it all the time.

Happy, aren't We?
We laugh:
big teeth, tight smiles.

Alone, aren't we?
Huge crowds:
masses, claustrophobia.

But who knows the truth
Our truths

Wide eyes, white grin

think for a second

I've wore a hole in my mind from thinking

Happy, aren't We?