i used to think that maybe if i just
swallowed enough of these pills
i could fill my veins with the
yellow pigment they held
so that when my skin opened up
i'd bleed the color of plastic toy trucks
and the sun on winter mornings
instead of bit lips and
tired, teary eyes
but the red never truly faded
until i stopped trying to change it

in 10 years
your body will be
covered in ink
and i will look back
on the days i used to
make the most intimate
c o n t a c t
with the flawless
ivory silk you called
skin, a version of you
that was young and
pure

Today I realized that I
am one of those people
you see characterized on shows
that just wants to sit outside
and smoke
I have been on my porch
watching my plants
and the sun trot across the sky
hell I'll probably sit out here
well into the
night

today i took a trip through the meadows to remind
myself of what the grace of auburn leaves felt like
to the pallet of my eyes.

lets speak like there are no periods
and keep our need for our tongues
to curve into commas and let our
lips visit the taste of hesitance only
when our breaths begin to hitch like
ragweed on the itch of a cough lets keep
talking like our lungs have no need for
replenishment lets keep speaking like
we have no need to stop

I can hang my research paper
about mini gardening on my
refrigerator and hope that you
read it as you're
grabbing yourself a beer
and notice how thoughtful I am

and I can leave my type writer
next to my paint brushes, where
the tv used to sit in my living room
and hope that you will sit
on my couch and wonder
if I write about you
or if I paint pictures
of how flowers look
right after it rains

and I could hang posters of
Joe Strummer
& Charles Darwin
all over my bedroom walls
so that when
you climb into my bed you
think I'm interesting and smart

and I can compose 500 word texts
about how green your eyes are
then never send them

but that's more work than
I have the energy for this year
so I just won't bother loving you