There are still days when I think of you.  
When the air smells like afternoon walks,
and the blue sky looks over me with kindness.  
When the wind wraps an arm around my shoulder and walks me to class.  
  
There are still times that I see you,
wearing your heart on your sleeve, and concern in your eyes because love is just your style.  
When you open your chest but close your eyes, to hide the vulnerability in your tenderness.  

And you laugh the loudest just to catch my eye.    

And there are nights when I no longer hear you
howling to the waning moon,
because you’re scared that she’s leaving too.

And because you were never a wolf in sheep’s clothing,
just a pup who’s bark should have been worse than his bite.  
Nights when you hide in the caves that I dug for you in the sides of mountains when they refused to move.

And there are still days when I think of you.
And I think of how you built me castles out of sand.
How my tears brought down walls like the ocean around me and exposed me to a cold I never knew.
And how you were gone, a bandit in the night, with the broken pieces of my trust.

These are the days that I wish I could sleep through,
but I can’t sleep forever.
Some nights, I can’t sleep at all.
So those nights I wish, in the biting cold, on the stars that shine over my fallen castle.
And I howl at the moon and I hug the breeze and I hope you ******* feel it.

I hope there are days you want to call me.
Like the night she finally kisses you hello,
so you can tell me how she fills your days with laughter and your nights with warmth,
Or the morning you wake up and finally find the courage to tell the world your truth.

And when you do, I hope you realize how long its been since you had my number.
I hope you can’t remember what my voice sounds like, howling to the moon together until the sun chased us down.
I hope that it hurts a little
when you taste the venom on your tongue.

I hope you wish you’d swallowed it,
because I can’t bare sting.

And because I’d like to think you think of me some days,
when the wind is at your back and by your side
keeping you company on your walk home.

Ahh, the friend zone.  Have you ever been there? Stuck between wanting and not being wanted by who you are certain must be the love of your life? Well don't you worry your lonely little head any longer, because experts have finally developed a fool-proof way to escape this unfair wasteland void of affection.

Step one:
Admit what has happened.  You, friend, have been friend zoned.  For some unfathomable reason, girl has deemed you, undesirable. Do not be discouraged when she calls you brother.  Instead, accept the challenge of making ****** seem appealing.

Step two:
Spend less time with her.  Make her feel as if she values your company more than you do hers.  She will begin to feel confused and lonely. When she calls, do not pick up until at least the fifth ring.

Step three:
Up your flirting game. If she doesn't respond positively, send her a sarcastic remark via text guilting her into giving you more attention.

Step four:
Change. Change everything about yourself until you lose the person she first befriended.  When she sees you, it will be like looking in the face of a stranger.

Step five:
Break the touch barrier.  Invading a woman's personal space with unwarranted physical gestures is a sure way to make her used to your dominating body movements.  Soon, she should submit to her instincts, and to you.  

Step six:
Stop doing things for her.  You can't expect a girl to want to date you when you already give her everything a boyfriend would and she doesn't even have to put out.  (I mean, the only reason women even have *** is to keep their man around).  Instead, tell her to do something for you, like making a sandwich.

Step seven:
Explain to her why her boyfriend, girlfriend, other love interest, or singleness is not right for you.  I mean, her.  She is, after all, incapable of making her own decisions, or else she would not need to lean on you for advice.  Understand that you are better than anything else she could want, she just doesn't know it yet.

Step eight:
Date other people.  Women easily become jealous of other women.  This will make her small mind react territorially.  Much like step two, this will lead her to feel insecure around you, and she will begin to show you only her most formal, prettiest parts.  

Step nine.
Confess your feelings for her.  Humans in general can never tell when someone is romantically interested.  Overstep boundaries, tell her how you are almost too good for her, and she will never find someone like you.

Step ten.
Congratulations! You've done it.  You, sir, have escaped the friend zone.
She does not look at you when she walks by. She does not call.
You, are no longer her friend.

Baby, if you died tomorrow
I'd get our favorite line
from our favorite song
printed on my back, in your hand

The song you and I danced to
The one where the voice
doesn't match the man,

“It was in love I was created,
and in love is how I hope I die.”

It'd make me cry, everyday
because you did die
But I know you're so selfless
You'd only wish better for me

Now you, the one with the big hair and tiny body
The one who became my first high school friend.
For someone so blunt and honest
I'd never imagine you'd be so sweet.

So if you dies tomorrow
I'd put the twin strawberries
on the inside of my wrist
The ones you sketched on my birthday card

You wrote the two paged, double sided letter tucked inside
I still read it when I feel sad.
It reminds me how incredibly loved I am
and how just plain incredible you are.

You, with the short hair and round glasses
the one with a small voice and big, contagious laughter.
Your performances make my week
And you've made such a big bang in my life
In ways you can never see.

You are a firecracker
And though you may be blind to your own light
That is what I see in you.

You'd be a firework
Exploding on the back of my neck
It'd be more than every color in the rainbow
Because I can't associate just one with you

It's be messy and wouldn't go with any of my clothes
It's be hidden when my short hair grew shaggy
But it'd be undoubtedly you.

You, with the new golden hair
but the always golden insides
I think you, and I think perfect
I think smiles and sunshine and songs

I think all that is good.
So to think you ever want,
ever need, ever hurt
Seems impossible.

You hardly ever let that side show
but when you do
Well, even those moments are beautiful.

I don't know what I'd get for you
Maybe the first poem you wrote for me
The one with flowers draw in the background
- I'm still amazed, to this day, you knew I liked calla lilies

Maybe I'd get the last poem you wrote me
Both put a smile on my face
and I think both apply to you too.

You, when I think of you, I think cool moves at N-trip
I think always knowing what to say
I think beautiful straight hair, bright blue eyes
and completely making my day.

I think of beat box rapping
And your bubbly presence
For you, there is no word picture or phrase
That can sum you up better than your name

I've never seen it spelled that way
And it shows just how amazingly unique you are.

You; when I think of the tattoo I'd get for you
I think of the paper crane you gave me for my birthday,
Now, I know it was last minute
but I'm glad you didn't buy anything.

Paper, to me, is just a blank canvas
I can't wait to write on.
But when you fold it up the way you do,
It reminds me how complicated things are
- Things like you.

Like that crane,
I haven't gotten the opportunity to bend back those folds
Get to know those creases and cracks
But now I'm going to take the chance
That I may never see that bird in the same light again.

Now brother, I don't want to go into detail about your death
Life without our bicker and banter is one I don't want to imagine.

And if you died, I'd always regret not telling you
I love you in ways you cannot fathom.
I don't want to think of you dying,
let alone the tattoo I'd get for you...
Here it goes;

I've thought of things that remind me of you
Baseball bats you drop on your iPod
Hockey sticks who's height you've finally caught up to
But none of those things show you

I think of you and your crazy curly hair
Your goofy ghetto caps
Your thin toothpick frame
and your fast-paced gangster rap

But you can't sum those things up
In song lyrics and pictures.
So as selfish as this sounds,
I'd want you to get the tattoo

I'd want you to be the one with a book on your back
or a pen on your wrist,
I'd want you to be out there and living each day to the fullest
Live each day that I'd miss.

But if you did die tomorrow,
I'd have to drag myself to that parlor
Pick a photo or phrase
Made to represent you

And you have to understand, this isn't something I'd normally do
Tattoos are permanent; unforgettable.
The ink fades and they get ugly as you age
They probably hurt like hell to get and only worse to remove.

But if you died tomorrow.
any of you,
I'd get those tattoos.

Wait...
But you said you would
*** me up real good?
m' druuuunk n *****
An I really think you should...

Keep that promise, when we kissed...
A decade...several kids, marriage is
Nothing between friends so
Give me what you've got
I bet you've got a lot.

You wanted to write her a love poem.
You wanted to make her feel like she was a brick of gold,
Forgetfully delicate and so pure, to hold her
would be the perfect example of effort and reward
But you were never very good at writing those.

So to keep yourself from getting bored, you're writing a poem about yourself.
Its still not a love poem though, You were never very good at writing those.
You are your own worst enemy.
Its pathetic really, denying that she was your lover,
But you are NOT her ******* mother.
So let her dig her own graves.

Now rob them.

Sometimes its hard to be a poets friend, because you know they'll twist your words and spit them back at you.
Their dark sides are the tiny spiders you left in the corner of the room to shrivel up and hang themselves in cobwebs made from old mistakes.
You don't expect them to bite.

Last night you heard her laugh and laughed louder to try to drown out the sounds of your own heart breaking.
Sometimes, it hurts to be strong.
Sometimes the smiles are fake and and the lines are all wrong, but you
Honey, you are an actress
Live in method, mistake stage light for the sun, inhale dust of memories like air,
its not like you can breath without her anyway.

Sometimes, its hard to be your own friend.
Because you are a poet and a poet is a sophist and a sophist is the worst thing you can call a person,
you drown in words and no one wants to save you because it looks like your a competitive swimmer.

Sometimes, its hard to be a poets friend. There are so many of you.
7 billion poets of their own craft. 7 billion.
And she will learn to love all of them. Call them darling.
Hold them away from ledges, pry knives from their hands.
Drain the bath tubs over and over.

She does not need you to feel loved.