The tone, the rhythm, the melody. Every beat, every snare, every drum.
The sound waves projecting, and then contracting.
The perfect construction of these elements, all streamed together uniquely.
The pace of your heart quickens, and a bubble rises from your gut--nostalgia.
His words, half spoken, half sung. You slip into a haze--
"You don't have to... change for me."
Slowly sinking deeper into your daydream, every pulsating note
brings backs visions of your youth, memories that had been long forgotten.
(You, lying on your bed, dead to the surrounding universe,
only aware of the nauseous feeling in your stomach when you think of him.
And him, the him whom you'd forgotten until this moment,
the him who seemed so important at that time,
the him whom you'd barely known--and still do not)
The fuzzy bass and faint piano come into play.
(Strawberry lollipops, school dresses, pig tails in your hair
Long summers, iced tea, doodles on your homework)
"I don't want you calling, please don't call," he says.
The layers, the balance, the beauty.

How could this have fallen into the blank space of your mind?

Somewhere, they'll find us
where?
somewhere
on our cross, together
the only place we knew we'd be safe
what if it were only one of us anyway?
they'd find us somewhere

Your voice, it resonates inside me
Your touch, my skin can feel that sensation
The way your eyelids blink, I can remember
The way your coat moved about you, I like to think of it

Your mouth curved into a slight smile, and my mind won't forget
"Your smell, it fills my soul" and I cannot forget those words
What is today and what is tomorrow?
They do not matter for me

This forlorn girl

We all knew each other
And were well-acquainted
But does it count for anything
So far into the future?
When I'm sitting in my apartment
And you're at home with your family,
We won't be thinking of each other,
But the memories

We're constantly looking at ourselves
In photos or reflections.
We can't get enough—
We're obsessed.
If I tilt my head this way,
Smile that way,
Maybe I'll look more appealing.
But let me tell you,
Look no further.
Instead, focus on your insides.
Because when you're body is cold and limp
And your face is distant and emotionless
It truly will not matter
Whether you look good or not

Will you know love when you find it?
                                                  Perhaps

­Or contrarily, it may sneak up on you,
Like a lion in the African fields
Wrapping it's jaws around your throat,
Encasing you in one foul motion

And you might feel the hints of love in your gut
Before the light fades completely.

I think these "flowers"
That you've placed upon my head
Are starting to *dry