Last night I read your poem
in bed instead of writing
like I'd said I would.  I
had to start over twice
because my eyes aren't
as good as my heart
when it comes to stopping
and starting at pauses
heavy with losses.  Lost
causes and me seem to be
your specialties. Especially me.

I woke up naked
somewhere between you and me.

I must have been a tiny spider, curled up,
unfolded my limbs,
sweat adhesive for the sheets.
Liquefied myself
again.

You play with my tongue,
melding
with my spit
and my lungs.

I must have been a wind chime, swaying silently,
chest quivering, bare ******* showing,
wrists cracking, still trying to unwind.

I woke up naked
and swallowed you whole.

I don't want you to miss me
Like an arm or a lung.
I would miss you like that
If you hated me, if you were gone,
And maybe you'd feel
The same.
But away as you are
Reluctantly,
Briefly,
In love and in faith,
I hope you miss me smaller,
Lighter,
Warmer.
I want missing me to go with you wherever you are
Not like a raincloud or a looming shadow
But like
Like a small love note
A little slip of paper, almost inconsequential,
Something you see and smile and think,
"I'll keep this."
Something you fold up small and slide into the bottom of your coat pocket
And fiddle with whenever you're bored or lonely
And maybe sometimes you forget it, maybe it doesn't always catch your notice
But then the wind blows and in the cold you push your hands
Deep into those pockets
And your fingers brush the thought of me and how I love you
And a smile spreads across your face.
Maybe you take it out and look it over,
And then decide to put it back so that can happen
All over again.
I want you to miss me like that.
I want it to be something sweet and small, something that can travel with you
And never weigh you down.
It's true that I think of you whenever I am sat in silence for more than a moment
And I do the same sort of thing
Maybe too often, maybe too fondly.
Maybe my little love note would be creased and worn
And rubbed a little blurry from the pads of my fingers tracing your words.
But nonetheless
You are so easy to take along with me
The thought of you so warm and comforting and
Light
But strong.
I want that for you.
I want to be easy to hold
So that maybe you will never
Let me go.

Plagued by an infectious feeling of love, I search for her—yearn for her touch, her acceptance. Scanning the room left and right, trying to find something to distract my mind from the excessive beauty she produced, illuminating the room as it shined from her pale skin. If only I could muster the courage to speak to her, to tell her that her allure is astounding and all encompassing, to kiss her slowly and hold her against me. Who am I to suggest that I would ever in the thousands of days of my existence speak to a woman so complete?

I could tell she was affected by some sort of substance and she wore it upon her face. This though did not take away from her profound attractiveness; incidentally, this flaw heightened her appeal, making her all the more attractive to me, personally.

The **** was getting to me now. Eyes were drooping. Head was pounding to the beat of the music, sending me off into missions in my own brain. Though this did not subdue me from her. I looked closer and harder, trying to give my attention to her; she deserved every last second of it. Did she know I was watching her every movement? The way her eyes fluttered from scene to scene in disbelief, or the way she moved her hair from the crest of her forehead.

No. She most certainly did not, and I planned to keep it that way.

How could I be so disrespectful to look at her in such a way? She was happy as she was. She didn’t need someone like me swooping in and causing an altercation in her life. But was she really happy though? Could I make her happier? I know I could. I know I could be the stars to her sky. I could shine brighter than whatever she already had. I could guide her to sublimity.

No, stop. I had to become prisoner to silent admiration. No interference with her personal life, instead I would have to fantasize from the realm of my imagination. A life where she finds me equally as interesting as I find her. The worst part of this all is that this could be reality, but I am too governed by my own sense of inherent morality to find out.

All these thoughts flow through my head in these few seconds I am looking at her—splashing over and over like a busted dam. I try to rebuild the dam in my mind, filling the holes with mental concrete blocks. The water continues to bust through, the stream becoming stronger than it once was. I am overwhelmed by these feelings that they drown my consciousness. I have to stop; I have to push them as far away as I can.

Leave her only as a remnant to my memories.

gull at sunset --
streak of pink
across a sickle moon.






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