The face that passes before your eyes
Is it mine that plagues you so?
Oh to condemn its actions and wander
A featureless phantom
Lest you be troubled

Peace is healthy
   in moderation

Be brave enough to tell that
    girl she doesn't have to cry, no, it's
   alright these are dry-erase markers
and there are not enough tears in the ocean

Thoughts.

Imaginations.

Words.

Playing through my head.

But where the hell did I place my paper and pen?

My friend said she would turn into a cloud
         I told her that's physically impossible
She warned me her form was fading
         I was occupied elsewhere
She asked me if I wouldn't help her stay
         I didn't think anything of it

And when I turned around

                     She was gone.

have you ever tried holding air in your hands?
cup it slightly, like this;
can you feel it?
hold it firmly, and make sure it
doesn’t drip from your fingers
air is life
you try to make it stay
within the walls of your flesh and blood,
and incarcerate it behind the bars of bone;
but it always finds a crevice
between your clean, filthy fingers
and escapes

My hands aren't big enough to be a substitute for yours.
Wrong size, wrong texture, wrong angle.

I need you, warm on my ****.
I need your fingers swirling in me.
I need you talking to me
And looking at me with that predatory stare.

I need you now.