sad boy with crisp collar, good grades
he is handsome, his hands become loose before he will notice

time has told me that some places stay the same
i forgot his name, but he dressed in corduroy and
his mind was woven in brassy string
that day, clouds fused with sunshine in the last hours
they kissed the ground, soft and wet.
there's a sound that belongs to you; there's
a sound that maybe a bit of you resides within.
lost for words? yes, i am, but not too many
people are, right?
i pick a new flower for you each time one withers into death,
in the end you have a bouquet that would hold itself
together only with dry stems
and hopeful thought.