My left ear lobe is having an
allergic reaction to the chemicals
of my bullet-studded earring while
my right ear lobe is just fine with the
bow and arrow that's speared through.

My lungs are anaphylactic response to
the silence of your words and the nasal
voice that whinnies out of your throat.

I am not unaware of your sudden decision
to grow out the raven-colored hair out of its
buzzed stage much like how I understand
your need to refuse my query of,
"What are you?"

I admire your commitment to further your
thinkings, the reach of your leaves.

I'd kiss the state flag you have tattooed
on your forearm if it meant getting closer to you.

Recite to me every song lyric that reminds you of me and every line that hums a smile across your lips and presses the feel of my hands against your chest.

the image of Erin walking
by me surprised by the
alertness of my voice as she
jitters along terrifies me.
I wish I could hold her and
tell her that its okay to break.
I wish I could tell her that she
doesn't need some to piece her
back together every t i m e she
slides apart. I wish could tell
her that all she needs is someone
to hold all of her pieces and not
just some of them.

The image of frail little Erin alarms
me e v e r y time I close my eyes.

i'm sure, i'm sure
she's the kind of girl
you've got to love
*e v e r y  n i g h t.