The act of cleansing
Like patterns this will repeat
I will see you soon.

The bluest of blues
emanating from your abdomen to my chest.
Filling up every room,
so that you can taste it.
Caressing the idea of what we never were,
or could be.
It wasn't me.

You will replace me
That layer of life once had
Stored away for good.

Pouring something...
like worn clothes,
never reaching that stationary mask.
that we made.
that you wear.
like it was a dare,
you just don't care...
I'm not really torn,
you weren't really rare,
and were never ******* fair.
the thoughts i will sever,
the wounds not so sore.

I never really knew we just couldn't last together.

and now you've shut your door,
and i can't help but picture myself,
standing here before
when i came to you
and asked you for just
one minute.

I have a teacher that reminds me of you.
Hes funny,
and he wears sweater vests--
and even though you're nearing what you think of as "old",
i've never felt laughter so young.
It's all i hope to return to.

Come on now,
sit,
indulge in this dream.
Don't even worry,
It's buried underneath.
Where i lie,
and i don't know you anymore.

I will remember your face.
It moved through the lights on the bridge
in the town we were in.
So subtly like magnets, we attract.

I always knew I'd know you.

I sit.
Fragments of myself spilling,
making mockery of gravity,
splashing across my empty ceiling...

and i can feel it.

For the satisfaction of the doubt,
there are places we go in alternate lives,
and theres no one else to feast my eyes.
The Beach Boys sing,
and I proudly wear your ring.
Were making endless truth,
in a world filled with expensive lies.

The year there,
after,
I was captivated.
This is what I had read in books,
and dreamed in mind.
He asked me about my first kiss--
"it was real",
I replied.

Seeing this makes you so much bigger than me.
You are the sore thumb sticking out amongst the digits,
as mine are being slammed in your door.

thats where i go
to see you standing there in the cold, dark snow.
Together we are now, but we are so alone,
I go back now to take this home.

I remember that laugh,
and your warm, soft stare
but that-- i have to keep it there.

seeing you in his photograph,
newspaper,
bleeding in black and white.
red ink staining my skin,
as i wonder which parts of his you've touched.