Warm apple
& pumpkin spice
Its mid summer
but you're still burning
Fall scents
You bury your head
in your pillow
and twist your body,
all wrapped in sheets
toward the wall
beneath the window,
"It still smells good
so I dunno... whatever"
You're always laughing
at the most
insignificant things
and making eyes
with inanimate objects
like your guitar or my notebook
You say you fall in love
with the art I make
and then you kiss my forehead
and twirl my hair
between your fingers
You're the only one who really cares
to consider
all of my rants and hurried scribbles
'art'
Most of them have been
about you
for the past year or two
I wish I could still
show you
I know you'd pour
your eyes
into every word
Underlining all of your
favorite parts with the
tip of your pointer finger
& choosing one stanza
to sing like an other one of your
pretty songs,
strumming your thumb
against the page like the
strings of your tired guitar
Just like you did
on that patient day
last summer
Lying in your bed
Counting ceiling tiles
and making homes in each other's chests
I miss you