I think of You when I brush my teeth and comb my hair.
You used to dust off your boyfriends just as fast yet
Your hand still shakes less than mine.
The pact I made in eighth grade only destroyed one of us;
we were only trying to shake off the insults of elementary school.
My scars still laugh at me from under my slacks,
while You strut in bikinis during the summer months.
It all is based on what they say,
but not what I bother to tell them
I feel.
I will tell You;
             that my heart has been asleep for two centuries,
             my soul spends starless nights awake wishing for deeper meaning,
             my hands were caught replacing my Bible with my books of Byron and Bukowski
             the taste of pumpkin coffee rattles in my mouth
             and my voice has taken a vacation to the tropics
             while my skin sighs tears it does not possess.
            my heart is weeping for the one I cannot see
            and my chin trembles more than three times a week.
Yet when I chew on my rosemary leaves,
I will remember how You threw my things to the carpet.
I will remember how You meant it when you kissed me
and I will remember when You borrowed my romper,
two sizes too big,
and worked it harder than that psychology textbook You so despise.
And I will remember the moment
I knew I loved You.