i've been building sentences
for you, because there are
too many words to keep them
stagnant and docile.

oh, words on melancholy smiles,
chipped porcelain and
sunlight dappled through your hair
like the sun herself had
kissed the crown of your head.

i've been writing you letters
inside of my head. little golden
pinpricks of love
seeping through my cells
because my body cannot hold
the very idea of loving you.

in those moments, i am liminal,
held tight by the arch of your spine,
the pads of your fingers,
the way that you held my name
in your mouth before
it rolled off of your tongue and
the smell of your skin
in a dark room, with only
the moon watching us
woefully, sweetly.

words like saccharine and
your name, slow like honey,
taste sweet enough
to make me cry.

i've been stuck on the idea
of loving you, loving me
and wringing my hands
over bad luck, mon petite chou.

and still, you close your eyes,
clasp your hands over your ears
and brush off my words like
dust or snowflakes or
unrequited love.

it hit me sometime later that graduation is life's greatest metaphor.

you show up early confused about where to go
you stand in a line that you're not sure you belong in
you march, following your peers, hoping you're going the right way
you fill out a form so someone older than you can correctly pronounce your name
you sit around and listen to adults talk, but you don't really pay too much attention
your name is called, a few people clap
then it's over.  

and you stand outside and ask:

"what now?"

It would be so sweet if it wasn't so bitter,
it would really move if it didn't stand so still.
It's going to take a lot of water, maybe a river,
it'll take a lot of love until I've had my fill.

Sometimes love's fire lifts us up,
it burns so bright as we fill our cup.
We touch so soft and slow beside the ancient well,
it feels so good to be under love's spell.
So we try to hold tight but love takes wings,
sometimes in our pain we do hurtful things.

Love's strong suit held close to our chest,
says you got it made, your hand is the best.
So you can go big or you can stay home,
you can hold your horses, you can hold the phone.
In the end you know it's true,
you're going to slide on in, there is nothing you can do.

When you can't find love,
it's hidden hard in heart-red shades of blue-grey shadow,
it feels like you don't remember how to live.
You stumble around and forget your place,
you wring your hands and you knit a face.
You pretend it doesn't matter, that's what you'll do,
who you trying to kid, who's fooling who...