He slid his picture next to hers.
To dust the spaces beneath it.
Let the corners of the frames touch.
Left them together, to see if she would smile.

Pointless spring cleaning.
Her picture was collecting dust.
He held her name so tight behind his teeth-
He forgot he needed to breathe.

I cut myself on the future
I thought of kissing your picture
I detached myself from
lullabies and sorry eyes
only to realize:

I want to make love to you in November,
just before the empty of December.
Where snow blankets
and suffocating leaf-beds
aren't the only dreams
to fall asleep in our heads.

I could hear your voice trip
as my hands started to drip
around your hips and thighs-
You could tranquilize
with your lips and byes.

You look so sleepy-headed
Many words I have threaded
to weave a dream
desperately
but you prefer my
reality.

She went into Winter-
But sprung into Spring-
Her Summer was something-
So she fell into fall.

Peach dream
She smokes 2 packs a day
Black hair
I still want to kiss her (sometimes)
Hands
Reaching out
Takes my shirt off
Counts on my finger tips
How many times she wanted to see me
Scream
She isn't anything to anyone
Not even me
Ok that's not true
She means something to me
The sad bags under her eyes
And the cracks in her lips
I even tried to help her quit smoking
Took her to a hypnotist
It didn't work
But I still let her smoke in my car
And I still want to kiss her (sometimes)
And when she got high the other night
And ****** someone else
And blamed it on me
I don't know
I still want the chipped paint on her nails
And the hair falling into her face
I want it all
I think

I've been making making excuses to come see you.
To drive out that far.
                                    But.
                                    When will you be the excuse I use-
                                    To come do something else-