i keep my hands held close to my sides
for fear that if i dare stretch them too far
i may burn my fingers upon the edge of the stars--
       (i suppose the fear i know is just a side effect of
       having lost things i've loved far too long
       and loving things too lost to play along)

they told me happiness would
come, if only i'd look

                                     (but i am tired of searching
                                      only to find nothing)

i swear, i'm not a thief,
but if given the opportunity
i would take your
heart and run to the edge
of the universe and
back, just to have you chase me
(it may be my only way
to leave you breathless, the same
way you leave me)

because it's like every time we're
in the same room, i can't
pull my eyes away from the curve
of your ears or the lines of your
knees or the way your veins are
permanently risen off the
back of your hands, like you're
always gripping something,
       you     just     don't    know    what

(it's overwhelming, knowing how
conveniently my hands would
fit into yours, so that you'd finally have
something to hold on to)

i wish i could erase all the worlds you've
ever whispered into my ear,
but my blood runs thick with ink
instead of graphite and lead,
and my bones are heavy with every
syllable you ever spoke.

darling, do you
     even know
how                          
      *******
                ­ cute
   you are?