I think it’s awful and it’s beautiful,
I hear it the way you do —
not the way it sounded, but the way
you meant it to.

It sounds like the night I slept
in your shirt.
Like the first time that you asked me
if I was sure
when we touched and we touched and
we touched,

Like when I whispered I loved you
and knew I would miss you —
it sounds like exactly how much.

It’s awful and it’s beautiful, just once
or ten times through, you know
Not sure you knew the piece of me
you had but, now you do.

I stand up strong, look in the mirror
Say grandma will be wrong soon,

Drive and work, keep a smile
try to not be the reason a frown ensues,

Supplicate to myself,
wonder and dream about what can be,

Call to not get an answer,
but she will is what I hope,

Tell my mother what's wrong and hopefully right
ask she will see decades more of nights,

Sit down and write, because it feels right
feel cold but indifferent of what's left,

Dreary thinking of the prospect that nothing changes
even with my best,

See my father hasn't opened years of messages,
I lament

Be strong because that's all that's left,
Smile because people deserve the best,

All for you, and them, dancing in my chest.

My eyes are clear
Opening my lash-eyelet curtain
A near-perceptible glacier-clean,
--thud-crack of thick ice
Forming two, perfect, transparent, oval shards
Convex bevel edges
Satisfying symmetry.

My brain is quiet
Waiting for the roaring, train engine, kettle-boiling,
punctuated by slight, syncopated,
tap-taps that,
-- so kindly, remind me, my mind be, relying
-- on pulsing blood
Still roarless
Still, roarless
Spline-smoothed
Blood journeys gently, cloud-style
Not muddling, befuddling, nimbostratus
Just happy little cumulus
Soft. Nice.

My shoulders are low
Cage only soundtrack here
Absence of intended sounds
Only the astral smooth void
Flawless, measured, even space
My ears can kiss my shoulders if I feel like it
--but I don’t feel like it
Comfortable.

My breath is even
Jaws are open pliers
Thoughts are photos in ice and midnight blue
-- no rue umber or regret beige
Muscles are liquid-warm wax
Palms are oasis-free deserts
Pupils are obsidian-shined globes
Skin made of moonlight
Heart matching the beat of the universe

I have returned
Back inside myself
I am here.

It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.

if I were you
and you were me
together maybe we could be
the people that we dreamt to be
I’d feel your feet inside my shoes
you’d feel my pain inside your head
we’d see the world
through our eyes
we’d feel the wind
on our skin

if I were you
and you were me
we’d understand each other’s world
for free