I fell in love... with the way
you fall asleep. slowly, then all at once. god, I sometimes wish that I saw the pictures that reside underneath your eyelids and the images, that make a map on the inside of your brain. but no, here I am, feet as cold as the heart of a murderer's, listening to coffee steam and the sound of your soft whispers.

I fell in love... with the way
you fell in love with the sky.
the tenderness of the clouds
and the fluffiness of the atmosphere, you've always adored the sky; especially after it rained. red-sky,
I think you called it. though I've never had the pleasure to witness one (and with you), I hope it looked like you. I hope it looked
like your eyes in the evening time.
that'd be my redsky. I see redskies. redskies in your eyes, yes, well
if that counts.

I fell in love... with the way
your heart fell into beats. each one
sounding like a metronome that stopped to the sound of your voice and had no specific rate. oh, it'd flutter then fall, then rise, and fall again; kind of like how I feel about you. kind of like how I fell for you. kind of how my love is now for you.
and I really wished I figured out which part I'm at now, the flutter or the fly part..

your eyelashes showed interest,
your lips showed courage, with a little bit of lust outlining the curve. they've always been distrustful. but nothing was more dishonest than the snow that frosted and layed on the trees, each branch looking like a frozen chocolate Popsicle.

(the branches were dismembered fingers that always reached for something. love, hope, I don't know.
they cracked and crumbled, to their death, to the ground, whatever in reach falling with them.)

I loved talking to you. you didn't think like me, which was good. you gave a reason to your point of view, always (which was quite annoying in some ways and some adorably lovely in others.) having to say your opinion.

I dreamt of you
     in poetry last
night. I wonder(ed)
                              what
you were doing; where
you were.             how
you were doing;  if I
        was going to see
you anywhere.
I
look at apartment
        buildings
that look at my balcony
           and wonder if
                                   your
                                     body
resides there: and all I
can think of          (right
now) is how
much my veins tingled when
I wrote "your
                   body".

your lips
became
the inside of
       a music note,

your mind
mapping out my
life.

good
         night.
and dream
of me;

or don't.

I learnt to live off of art and music;
food and water aren't mandatory.
(I'm trying to let my fingers talk).
/
breathe in the sky
stare at plants, decorate
bite your cheek, but not too hard this time. feel your heart, let your veins talk and pump the blood throughout your body to the rhythm of the song.
grow, walk, alone
(it's nice to have these moments).

feel the tense skin in between your eyebrows, mad because he doesn't talk to you: though confused because you don't notice him
/