Every night I try to press myself
into the pages of my favorite book,
and every night I realize that the spine
is too weak to hold onto all the extra vowels.

So instead,  
I tear out every single page.
I fold them into paper airplanes,
each with my lip stain on the wing,
and I scatter them in your yard.
I watch every one glide and soar
until it crashes, even after I've
woken the neighbors. Even after
your parents have called the police.
Even after you stand in front of me,
so close that all I can do is crush them
against your chest.

of course i wish i could create the words
to send shivers through your body
and rattle you right down to the bones
of course i wish i could pull gasps and cries from the crowd
and force tears down the cheeks
of even the most stubborn of nonbelievers
of course i wish i could make music with the way
i arrange 26 funny little shapes
or splash paint across the walls of every mind in the room
or at the very least, say something
but the truth of the matter remains
that i may never do that
and my words may never be anything more than words
and they may never mean anything
to anyone
but me
but maybe,
if it's not too much to ask,
you could take this little bit of me with you
fold it up small and put it in your pocket
or your wallet
or tuck it behind your ear
and promise me
that when the time is right
you'll unfold it and feel something