i want to scream you through my mouth. i don't have to exist any longer, as sun shine or stretched clothing that doesn't fit any longer, the shirts in your drawer, the scarves fumbled with and discarded underneath the stairs of a community c ollege. if you want this, would you tell m e. i don't have to step outside this door, not once or twice without you. because, of course, there are better things. i don 't think i make any more sense than pre tty birds that cheep unicorn songs, and grow shelters for their green-houses. i could write you a song, if you'd like.
when the sun shines for the second tim e, i'll let you know. right now the clouds are labelled grey, and drawing islands i n the discovering sand does not remedy seasonal blues unaffected by the medic ation of your smile and racing for play-g round swings that cut up my thighs any way. if i could put you on repeat, i woul d, but life ain't youtube, and people ain 't paintings you can put in a frame and hang on the wall, they ain't songs you can listen to until you go cross-eyed wi th giddiness. i'm not new anymore, i'm words i've already written, places i've already been, i am people unfamiliar b ecause i've talked to them for so long.