you take my words
how do i write my poems
about your eyes
and how my heart stores
every time
you have looked at me in them
how they are desperate and
full of some twisted sadness
how
they’ve met mine across the dance floor, and
across a table of familiar strangers
filled with strange food, and
across a school bus bay crowded with
shrieks and laughter of ***** being thrown
where you lay on your back
tossed one to me, and
how every single time
i was
searching,  
searching
for something i don’t even know
really
exists,

but thats why scientists
look for bones:
to make skeletons.