sometimes i like to pretend
that if you had bound books
in some life before this,
i was the story
you (again and again)
continued to stitch.

and when i was finished,
you would brush my spine softly
then unravel me,
just to piece me
back together again.

i don't have the capacity
to love as you do.

jesse only smiles when he means it.

nowadays, it takes a needle
to get the boys and girl
around the streetcorner high,
but all jesse needs
is an average girl with a pretty mind.

his timid mouth and crooked teeth
is the prettiest treasure a person could find.

you told me to stop chasing,
but you didn't say to give up.
since then i have stopped
clawing my way through the galaxies
to get to you--

instead, i hooked myself to the last star
you painted your name on
(and i will never stop waiting there
for you to return).