Do we go?
Do we?
You have to let me know - I don't
move all that
well
on my own.

Do you swear?
Do you?
Because, I need to know
we're there -
You can't just
Leave me all alone.

But could you?
You could
Wrap me up in
silhouettes - pretend I never was
And I will be gone.
I will.

And to know.
Oh, to know just who
it is we try to be
when we're losing thoughts,
losing ourselves in "we."
And you're there.
You're there standing in the garden,
tall and innocent,
staring at me.
And I look at you.
I think we're wondering,
these thoughts we've lost
All tangled tight and broken
now it seems.
But, standing in that garden
I only remember "we."

inside lines of me.
outside lines,
it seems to be
that you, oh, you
never cease to let me go.
let me dream inside a dream
of drifting,
of unimaginable,
uninhibited existence.
never let me be.
i live behind closed eyes
and never get to be.

only one way to find me
          -living like a voice inside my own head.
that record stopped spinning,
collected dust so long ago,
taking up space on a shelf
I forgot I had.

What would you do
with all these pieces of me?
Please be innovative with your touch.
Don't paste them back together
in a crude attempt to recreate me.
Make me new
and whole
and lovely for your eyes to see.

I'd want to be nothing else.

Do you know
That you belong to me?
That every molecule
That you consist of
Is property in my name?

Hair on your arms,
The length of your throat,
That fallen eyelash lying
Quietly on your golden cheek.
All mine.

I’m happy to own the way
You walk into a room
On long legs, lean and sinister.
I have rights to that smile
Curving at the corners,
Revealing
Slightly crooked, still perfect, teeth.
All mine.

And in your arms,
You belong to me.
Your hands surrounding
My jumpy skin
And sliding over me,
Turning me into some sort of
Lazy ****** beast.
Your brazen curiosity.
All mine.

You claim, you feel
You hold, you cradle
All of me within a glance.
You touch, you give,
You crave, you taste
All of me within a kiss.

You overpower,
You own,
You possess
My every movement
And I give in so easily.
All mine.
All yours.

It is easier [for me]
To say it isn’t in the books for me to find
A savior to fit the finest form
Of all my varying needs.

It is easier [for me]
To see a tree and think of seeds
And sun and rain
And time
And not to think of a snap
Of *******
And a magical beginning.

It is easier [for me]
To fall asleep, asking myself
For strength I can’t seem to find inside
Than talking to an obscure illusion
That’s really only air.

It is easier [for me]
To doubt, to question, to search, to guess
To make believe I understand
The ways in which I’m never meant to understand
Than to sit back
And listen to words that do not belong to me.