You have me
chasing words as if
they're already
poetry,
sifting through
my index of
ways to explain what
you've done to me,
tie them to a hook,
throw the line,
& wait for prose

I'm so prone to wilting
in the sun,
by the lake,
because my skin
is made of
Morning Glories
and you've blasted me with
every type of sun the desert
has
to offer

Now I'm catching words like I'm fishing
for poetry to
feed
my need
to hold you in
a boat and then tell the
world how I love you.

I walk past a field everyday-
with tall grasses, everyday more bitter
shades of beige

I put sunscreen on my pale
skin
and walk until my shirt
sweats through

These walks are silent
and they're pensive- and a lot of the days,
I think about you

I think about the decisions
I've made,
I must make,
and how the heat of the sun is
overwhelming

I walk past a field everyday and now
tall grasses make me wonder
what I'm doing.

If you ever want
to be in love
you'll have
to find
another set of
shoulders who can bear
the weight

because there's only
one way
down and
it's so much easier
to get there when
I'm being
crushed by you

There are symphonies I'll
never hear
and books
I'll never
read
paintings that I'll never get to
stand in front and
see

There are feelings that
are foreign
and there are goals I won't
endeavor
-summers that will fade away,
desert me in the
heather

There are roses in a field of
gold:
air I'll never
breathe,
I've so many
decisions that
I don't even
feel free

I see a path at
the end of a road, hidden by
thickets of blackberries about
to blossom through the night
where shadows veil their violet colors,
those blushing, berry brides.