you had birds in your mouth and sunlight dripping from your eyelashes.
i promised i wouldn't speak if you wouldn't change faces twice an hour.
we made conversation under a tree and sleep-walked through your kitchen.
i couldn't stare for your poetry disguised as fingers, always moved your hands.

i opened your window and slid to the street, took a walk with the recycling.
my hands looked tired the next morning, and you wouldn't take no.
when the lights fell asleep, we ran for the boats and slipped into the water.
the moon smiled and pulled us apart, i never matched your shoes again.

We were in two separate rooms,
two separate beds,
two separate worlds
just begging
to be together,
but neither one of us wanted to take the chance
to be with one another
when we know
one of us would eventually get hurt
in the end.
And we're so tired of hurting each other.
So we just pretended,
we decided we'd dream up an instance
where our brilliance wasn't severed
with evaded truth that burned likes acid
sticking to our skin
We put together our separate's
and made one same
one identical dream
where we put the beer in the back
of your jeep, climbed into the front
with a duffel full of clothes and some water for the road,
along with a CD packed with the latest country.
When we reached the beach it was raining,
it was hot, humid, and beautiful.
The sun had already set, and no one was around
so we took of our shoes and danced in the sand
even though you didn't want to,
you did it for me.
I laughed because,
well it was funny
to have you hold me awkwardly
and move against the beat
of the song I was humming,
but it was fine
jut to have your arms around me.
We were soaked,
so we took off our shirts
and played tag your it
like we were a bunch of kids.
The rain never settled, and soon enough
I got cold
so you told me we could lay down the seats
wrap up in blankets
and go to sleep,
but of course we didn't.
We stayed up all night trying to get warm
talking about the stars and the little things
most people miss when they're just passing through.
I kissed you accidentally.
I'm sorry,
I just couldn't help myself
you looked so perfect in the moonlight.
You kissed me back,
like you weren't sorry
and we just couldn't help ourselves
from entangling together like two half molds
who just found each other.
The love we made was sweet and sticky,
kind of gentle yet kind of rough
like a honeysuckle leaking it's syrup
all over our pale-touched skin.
The love we made was warm and comfortable
kind of stupid yet kind of perfect
with the way we fit together.
We lost each other, in a sort of frenzy
then we had to be pulled back to reality
and reality is this
that I want to be together,
but you don't want to fit.

you need someone to love
               you need to love someone

as I do
how easy I become
how flawless you are
how jealous we become
of each other's other worlds
until it closes in on us
and I love you so much
I love you so much

our heads tilt the same way
fingertips touch the same way
kiss the same
fear love pain
fear love pain
how naked this all has made me
shredded and stripped
torn down to nothing
I was stuck in a constant state
insomnia
you were like
a resurrecting whirlwind
and I want you to stay
I want you to stay

we'll have our midnight picnics
talks by the lake
while the oceans
and storms beyond
elude us
as our feet swing
we make our ripples
and they go on and on
and on
                           and on

You picked me up
in your broken down
Cherokee truck.
Drove through the night
with me sleeping
in the seat at your side.
You paid for a room
with your paycheck
and change from the cup holder.
Woke me up,
fiddled with the key
in the cold air and dim light
of the hotel's fickle lock.
Walked me inside,
closed the curtains,
all the blinds.
Picked me up,
laid me down on the bed,
and kissed me slowly.
Not even giving me a moment
to comprehend.
Pushed my hair
out of my face
with your hands
that smelled like dirt and mulch.
Laughing at how soft
my skin was,
******* up the sweetness
in between my teeth.
Softly you drew away
the straps of my dress,
and tore off
your beaten work shirt,
blowing your breath
on my neck.
Pulled me up
with the back of your wrist
pressing me closely
against you.
You tugged the string
from the single light bulb
that lit up our room,
and clicked it off
So we could make love
in the darkness.

And I'll savor
every second.
Because come morning
you won't remember me.
You won't want
to remember this.
How you broke down,
needed me.
And I,
I won't want to remember
that sometimes
I break down,
and need you too.