Brown, wrinkled
and bound to fall off
I didn't yet realize
that I was more saddened
by the loss of time
than the loss
of my leather belt bracelet.

So worn
your edges crackled,
my skin tanned
around your braided
familiarity.

Senior year was over,
a bittersweet ending,
and yet
all I could think about
was that emptied
tan line
that I never wanted to
fill in.

Two years
passed
I kept
you wrapped
into
my skin.

My wrists were thin
with the bones
making corners
in my body
more slender
in your embrace,
I felt elegance
weightless
adorned
by your character
matching mine.

Built into my skin
I wore you
through sweat drips
and steamed showers.


I saw your layers
begin to lift
you hadn't left me,
not
yet.

Snapped in half
I held your carcass
in my left hand.

The metal notches
shone through
their scratches.

I stared down
your years
in my hand.

The cold classrooms
locked their doors
switched their lights,
and it was summer.

A picture image
engrained in my mind;
Your bracelet body
blurring my red spandex
sitting just beneath.


My locker lotion
under the sun
sparkled on my skin.

My body
whole
and young.

Change
gradually
came.

Home still sat
five minutes away,
and my friends
responded to nick names.

Memories sat
pressed in the palm
of my hand
pieces of the past
setting a precedent
for the future.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, clean up your golden hair,
For in the way is thy golden stair.
I work and I clean and I just want a rest,
Maybe a hair cut would be for the best.
A small amount, a trim and a snip,
Please my dear, I constantly trip.
For your locks are beautiful and golden and fair,
Even with a cut, still your beauty no one can compare.

Letting your thoughts flow free
Your spirit is so kind,
I never thought my man to be
Would have such a similar mind.

I simply cannot fathom
The way you understand,
Why don’t we open an asylum
Where our world is never bland.

You delightfully inspire my soul
With the way you hold my hand,
My heart you quickly stole
And nothing has ever been so grand.

I never thought I'd be this cutesy
But they say that love is blind,
I'll always be your little gypsy
Our souls forever entwined.

arts and crafts and kids on drugs
dream catchers and storytellers
in tree-houses and sheds
bare feet and bare legs

magic

let me share
i'll cut you a slice of the skies to keep in your eyes
so you can always see beauty
and learn to accept it when it's lying in front of you
remember how gorgeous life is

sunsets and fire pits and tents pitched in the mountains
solar flares and lunar eclipses
in telescopes lenses and lovers eyes

this IS profound
and we SHOULD take note
the universe bares wonderful gifts
and we are fools to let them slip so quickly through our hands
we've been here before
and we've known each other for eons
don't go forgetting

lava monsters and yellowing pages and smiles recognizable for miles
sage brush and card games
with cowboys and poets
cheap-seat prophets bound by collective conscious and some kind of mysticism

two-track game trails and smoke rings rising from the west
find your way home

i'll hide behind my sunset eyes and river-bed curves until your return

It's not because I don't love you,
because,
I do.
But you see
it always starts out the same.
I learn about you from a friend
when he tells me your name,
how much he loves you,
all the wondrous things you say
and that I need to get to know you;
today.
The next time I visit that friend,
you're there.
I try to play cool,
desperately trying to hide
how much I really care.
But inside I'm pulsing,
racing,
unable to think of anything
except when can I get you alone
and
when can I make you sing.
After all I've heard so much about you;
hated by those that don't matter
and loved by those that do.
So when it's time for me to leave
you come along without hesitancy
and
at home we get to know each other,
when your arch your spine for me
like you did for your last lover.
I hint at deep intentions
when I ask you to move in;
promising nights in each others arms,
my love and undivided attention.
“I have room for you in my life”
I'll say,
but despite this all
I still might give you away.
It's not that I won't miss you
when you're gone,
but,
the problem is I'm a traveler;
a vagabond.
I move on,
and on and on,
frequently meeting new faces
that hold a wonder for truth;
and they remind me of me
the me before you.
And so,
my darling,
it isn't that I don't love you,
I do.
But I've met someone new,
and this someone needs you.

The clouds so light,
                            So fluffy
                                    So bright
There is no wrong
Nor is there a right.
                            So delicate
                                    So clean
Hues of blue
Accompanied by earths green.
                            They change
                                    They drift
Colors in shades
Colors that shift.
                            So slow
                                   So fast
Soon they must leave
This beautiful past.

Threads get darker
when wet
with tears, salty sweat,
spilled water on a date,
beer slopped, slurred state.
Color is characteristic,
evidence, not mystic,
of time and results
of the feelings from insults
not spoken.
Here is a token
to show you
this is your cue.