Hey there, sweet stranger

I see the way you hide

Bottling everything up inside

I read your words over and over

Knowing you're just on the verge

Of finally breaking apart

So let me protect your heart

I see you, sweet stranger

And all your works of art

I feel your pain deep inside

You never need to hide

Not from me

The seasons never cease to change

Flowing as I sit with my hood down

In the rain washing away unjust notions

Cold little drops kissing my skin

Breathing deep this wet wind

Imagining it erasing all of my sins

Feeling the healing mist

As my pulse thuds in my wrist

I cross my fingers

And make a wish

Flying to heaven

On the wings of

Your last kiss

I miss you like the December earth
      Misses the sunlit rays on a cloudy day
Cold for you I yearn each dawn
      And churn and burn as the aching Pacific waves
A crashing hope upon wishes bent
      At 11:12 my world set straight  
And all that a man can do is wish
      That this will be the fated day
You walk into my life
      And stay

sitting behind this white dodge caravan.
between the rain and the burst of the red stop light in front of me,
a reminder of an unscheduled opthalmologist appointment,
I can't see a thing.
I wonder what the driver would think if I pulled my car in front of him,
swerving over from the turn lane,
and speeding through the intersection.
would they curse at the rainwater I sent splashing on to their car?
the liquid connecting with a crash so loud they might flinch.
and when they heard my engine rev,
six cylinders,
0-60 just like that,
would they think me a drunk?
a fool?
an impatient, reckless, mess of a driver?
and would they be wrong, regardless?
but tonight it feels like I've never been more sober,
aware in away that makes my skin itch.
maybe it's the weather, I might wonder, knowing it isn't.
and when the light finally turns green,
after what might've been an eternity or just a few seconds,
and they drive past the scene of the accident,
would they think
"she deserved it".

It is time to say goodbye,
to who I was,
to you and I.

For some I am
Too much
For others
Not enough

But all that matters
Is that for me
I am
the perfect fit