I always speak of your infinite eyes
But sometimes I wonder do you still dream of mine
Am I still the one you adore
Do you still feel the urge to kiss my wounds and bloom into my skin
Does your body still ache to feel my calus finger tips roam around your torso
Fold me like a t shirt and stuff me into your bottom drawer
You could wear me on wash day
I'm the book next to the book protected in dust
The one you haven't read since you last dreamt of him
I'm the dark bubbles in your black coffee
I'm the goosebumps you get when you watch blue moons
I'm the active chemical in your LSD
I'm the feeling your leg gets when you've been sitting on it for too long
I'm that bitter flavor that you no longer taste on your 4th glass
I'm the burn on your tongue when you take your first drag
I'm the chip in your nail when you smash your finger on the car door
Im the little plastic on your shoe lace
I'm the tag that's on your favorite shirt
I am the hidden ***** fork at the bottom of your dish rack
I'm the last drop of water that's left on your body after a shower
I'm the dust mites in your bed
I'm the wax in your ears
I am the dirt under your finger nails
I am the door handle on your mums car
I'm the scent in your perfume
I'm one of the littlest stones in the 7th step on your stairs
I am the peek hole on your apartment door
I'm the the gum stuck to the pavement on your way to school
I'm the ***** scent on the bus on your way home
I'm one single ridge on the quarter you give to a homeless man you see on 8th street
I'm the fibers in the paper of your journal
I'm the oil that keeps the ink in place in your pen
I am the Pentagon shape of your pencil
I am the empty spaces on your paper
I am the spine of your favorite book
I am the flavor in your favorite food
I am the bulgdes in your best pair of socks
I am the pitch of your voice
I am the waves that hit your veins every other week or so

Sometimes I'm strange, sometimes I'm annoying, sometimes I'm angry, sometimes I'm sad, sometimes Im happy, some times I'm vile, sometimes Im rich, sometimes I'm poor. But I love you always. Sometimes in my sleep, sometimes in my dreams, sometimes at 3 in the afternoon,  sometimes 3 A.M., sometimes during a shower, sometimes during the winter and sometimes during the summer. But I love you always.

How was it that your voice echoed inside my head, like an empty park, ugly duckling, rust on my chains and fungi at the bottom of the lake, you, arised like the mist that slowly clogs my window each morning I wake, broken cove, empty room, ***** feet, scratched disc and short hair, these days I spend with you, lights on my wall, accatone on my screen, ***** pastel on the floor, sticky skin, cigarette mouth, saliva. How was it that you made your home in my veins and hidden components in my body ones I only found because you came along, ****** poetry, empty shoes, tornado stomach, torn pants at the knee, Pablo Neruda, Oscar Wilde, ee Cummings and 40oz.  Please now, please,  I am at the mercy of you now, you know, look at me like you looked at them, press your lips against mine like he was watching, hold my hand until my nose bleeds, wrap your legs against mine until my eyes become numb,

Though sometimes at 4 A.M. I feel I cannot satisfy her needs I still love her
Though sometimes I feel that I'm not enough I love her
Though sometimes I look down because of those men with the veins and green eyes I love her
Though sometimes I cannot answer when she whistles I love her
Hard to explain
I know what I am and exactly what I could do
But she is just too beautiful
For I am sick, for I am bland, for I do not move like the froth of the sea
I am me,  and that's good enough.

Tonight I just might sit in my dimly lit box and count all the things I never hated
Tonight I just might wrap myself in thoughts until I feel your hand on my head pushing me deeper and deeper in
Tonight I just might consume more than I could hold and slowly drift away to days when the sun was asleep
Tonight I just might let the cigarette burn deeper and deeper into my flesh tearing everything in its way
Tonight I just might write a line or two about you
Tonight I just might smile a bit.

What is this love thing everyone writes about? Is it that loud noise in my cells that keep me awake during the suns travel during the night?
If I may propose this to you? Maybe its the look in your infinite eyes while you look away with your mouth slacked. Or maybe the way the skin on your fingers rub against mine. Maybe its the fragments and the friction that keep me awake during the day. Maybe its the way your tongue taste or the way the moon lights up your silhouette shadow on my side of the side walk. Or maybe the oils in your hair or maybe the layers in your fingernails. Is it the length of your toes and the shape of your laugh, is it the depth of your mind and every bit of syllable that your heart speaks to me