The gentle falling
of leaves

Orange, yellow, and
red--my favorite color

As I watch them in fascination--
gravity slowly and carelessly
pulling them to the ground--
I feel you nearby.

The wind rattles the trees
sends my hair whipping wildly
behind me

It snatches a paper
from my hand

I bend to pick it up, and
under the wind's howls,
your voice--
that soft, lulling melody
finds its way in my ears.
I flinch in surprise because

It's been seven years
since I saw you last,
and yet
you still follow me
wherever I go.

*Thank you for never really leaving me

I've always been curious
About almost everything
Especially people, new people
When I meet a new person,
I don't want small talk
I want to talk about everything
Like ***, drugs, crazy dreams
Life, love and hate
I want to know all the little things about you
Like your darkest fear, or your happiest moment
And I want you to know mine.
I guess I just want to know you,
I want to know who you are as a person
And who you want to be, what you want to be
I want, no I need to see you, for who you really are
If I'm to be a part of your life
I want us to know each other
And know each other well, very well
I want us to be something more than just acquaintances
I want us to be so close that we won't ever burn out
We can be the Stars that never burn out
Me and you
We'll forever burn bright

I.
You came upon me so suddenly--
a tornado,
a burst of energy--
I couldn't help but be swept up by
your pull

You tore me up
chewed me up
and spit me out
after spinning me around
mercilessly;
the circumlocution
making me dizzy

I had absolutely
nothing left.
I gave you everything
I had--
my heart and soul--
****** up by your vortex
never to be seen again

But it was my fault too,
I was too
curious, too anxious;
I dove in your storm too quickly

After all,
I'm just a
stormchaser
looking for
company
in the
oddest of places.

II.**
A new, different storm
approaching--
barreling through,
electric--
full of
life

Surrounded by my new storm
impossible to
escape its presence
but I'm not worried:
choosing to stay
by it

After all,
I'm just a
stormchaser
looking for
company
in the
oddest of places

Clouds are
rolling in,
this beautiful storm
coming my way.
Only thing I have to say is
"Bring on the rain."

I want to taste
the beer lingering on your lips,
even though
I've never drunk alcohol before.

You drank a Corona.
My dad always told me
Budweiser was the best.

I don't need
beer or wine or *****
to get the
content and happy buzz
I get from you.

Just a glimpse;
a fleeting look
into your dark,
brooding eyes
is enough to leave me
drunk all day long.

I know that
one taste of you
will be enough to
black me out.

The cool fall air mercilessly nips
at my uncovered shins;
I silently curse myself
for not wearing pants.

Velvet night envelops
our little world.
Stars, like freckles on cheeks,
dot the night sky in a random
yet mesmerizing pattern.

I approach our building.
It's a habit now--
my neck automatically ***** back,
searching desperately for the light above.

No, not the stars' light
coming from miles and miles away;
I crave the artificial yellow light
of your room, to assure me
that you're there.

I know it's crazy and stupid
(and definitely creepy)
of me to do that,
but I just can't help it.

You're supposed to
make a wish
on a shooting star,
but I'm using
your light instead.

Saying it aloud won't
make it come true,
but now I've got
nothing to lose.

My wish every night
as I walk back home
is that one of these days
you'll be searching for me
too.

Walk in, close the curtain behind you...
Reality doesn't follow you in here.

Sit down, look at the camera.
All that matters is this one moment.

3, 2, 1 the flash goes off
click...click...click...

Nowadays, this is the only place  
I'm genuinely happy.

O beautiful seashell,
sitting atop my dresser--

whiter than the purest milk,
or untouched snow.
Smooth and chalky,
as if crafted by a potter.

O beautiful seashell,
sitting atop my dresser--

crushed under the weight
of a fallen frame containing
the oldest photo
of my friend and I.

O beautiful seashell,
sitting atop my dresser--

I'm sorry to say you've suffered
from the same fate
as my
friendship...

O beautiful seashell,
sitting atop my dresser--

she shattered us into
dozens of tiny pieces,
and left me as the only fool
bothering to pick them up.