Your skin feels like no one else’s
I keep forgetting and remembering again,
the way it feels, the way it slides
through my ever changing hair
once it was black, you saw me back at brown,
left me at blonde and kissed me again in auburn.

Everything around have changed.
Yet I find myself still marching back to your hill.
And no matter how much these words bleed,
Nothing will ever be enough to paint our heartbeats.

How will something die, if it never lived?
All this will ever be is a ghost of a reverie.
I like tracing the paths of the places we've walked
in the fingertips of my worn out memory.
And see it all wounding up to you
A pain I so l ambivalently allowed to grow into me.

Like wildflowers, it sprouts slowly, then madly.
On it goes into my chest, my lungs
and at times I'll admit it gets hard to breath.

The roots have grown thick in the parts of me that never learn.
It's just futile for you or for anyone to see
I'll just go back to sleep in hopes that maybe,
...maybe not