You're first,
name shows up in letters spelled out in songs,
the name after that one resides in the people I call friends. Your last
name is written on the calendar in my room
that starts in January but I believe all life began last June.
I've researched the buses and trains and your eye color
and none of them can take me as far as I'd like to go fast enough.
But one day eventually I will show up at your doorstep ******
from the heart that's swollen so much that it's purple and pressed
against my rib cage, breaking straight out of my chest. And I will open
my swirling constellation of a naked mouth, uncensored and raw
while sun and planet will aim to thaw you out.
What happens next