Birds singing
in the dark
—Rainy dawn.

Pt. 1: Before
To the filter, the only thing of me you'll have.


                                 Pt. 2: Over
                                 Whisper softly, I won't be one of your bad habits.


Pt. 3: After
I'm smoke, catch me in your hands, if you can.

Why can't you be horrible and full of unforgivable flaws?
Why does it gets worse and not better inside my stupid, devoted heart?
Why do you still feel the same to me?
Your skin hasn't lost that scent I knew
The scent I still know and can remember by simply closing my eyes
The scent I still desire and find familiar
Even if it really never was

they asked me
what it was
in you
that i fell
in love with

what made you
the earth
my moon
revolved around

and my mind
started rushing

how do i
capture your
beauty in
a sentence

how do i
explain the
way you
tilt your head
when you laugh
or the way
you kiss when                    
you're sleepy
to people
who are too
mundane
to understand
                            
how do i
begin to
define you

i could say
that you
are the
sunshine
seeping through
my shut curtains
after a night
of a hurricane

i could say
that you
are the
feeling of
the airplane
rising from
the ground
and that you
are the beauty of
watching the clouds
dance with you
as you flew        

being with you
is that
blissful moment
when you
jump off
a swing for
the first time,
oblivious to        
the fact that
you are falling      

you are the
fragment
between awake
and asleep,
that moment
of dreams
beginning

your name
is my
heartbeat
but it is
also the
onomatopoeia
of a heart
breaking beyond
repair

you are
the stars
and you
are the storm
and you are
the calm
sea with                          
all its secrets

you are the
moment of
hesitation,
looking both
ways before
i cross
the street

you are the
buckled
seatbelt

the reason
why i fear
death and
oblivion

you are the
speechlesness    
of a poet,
the girl worth
a thousand words
but is incredibly
undescribable

and i guess
that is why
i can't
define you

because
definitions
are often
a conclusion,
only for
things that
are constant
and unchanging

and you
aren't that

you are
the moon's
unending
phases

the sea's
wild waves
and boundless
horizon

the ever
changing
girl who
remains
perfect

and all the
words in this
world are
never ever
enough to

define

you

These hips.
They are crooked, wide, pale and
beautiful. They will bear children and keep me walking.

Massive thighs that I would wish to shrink
are now the reason I can get up these stairs
They hold power and life

and my stomach with it's wrinkles,
it's dips, *****, spots
It keeps me upright

n.v.