I can't **** myself
because tomorrow I'm walking into town
with my best friend
in the middle of the school day
and getting coffee, it's a special occasion

And the death of a friend never makes for very good present, especially not on someone's eighteenth birthday

Somebody bundled
it into a clock
and slung it up high on a wall,

with numbers
like bars between us,
where there had been nothing before;

before,
my days had come open,
open and endless like sky,

but boxed on the wall
there looked no room for all
of the rest of my lifetime and I.

My heart beats for you still
I'm afraid it always will
It drifts somewhere on the sea
Somewhere far away, even from me
I guess I will always love you, even from afar
Because my heart beats for you, somewhere, floating... In a glass jar.

Her eyes are a metaphor,
   a conceit, fantasy

No shakespearean sonnet
   even a lyric, will suffice
   to describe the elegance she carries

Her smile, the greatest curve,
   all simile will be denied

Haikus and couplets
   even the long ones
   will not be enough

Her laughter is a song,
   a perfect harmony and melody

She is neither a hyperbole
   nor full of irony
   instead she is perfect rhyme

She is a walking poetry
   a personification of aesthetics

Almost an abstract
   unfathomable beauty
   out of the ordinary