Some of the lowest leaves
that face upwards,
that reach towards sunlight,
never fall to the ground.
Some of the highest flowers,
heated from the warmth,
never to become roots,
always face down.

It's kind of strange-
How we'll be sitting
at a gas station
and see these passing cars going north, south, east, west
and in those cars are people
with destinations and appointments and errands
and they have son-in- laws,
and pregnancy scares,
and they have shoe sizes and-
They live their whole lives without us.

We just see them in that
fleeting moment.

Maybe they are wearing sunglasses that are one size two big
or we see they have a seven year old soccer player stinking, covered in stains
but they go home and lay the glasses in the granite island
next to the rejected dadoption papers
or wind up the washing machine
that hasn't been working properly in one too many weeks.

We will never be a part of someone's lives wholly,
and we will never know their middle names or their deepest secrets
It's just strange-
is all.

I want to be
in sync with
another:
our arms swaying
with our steps
with not much
to talk about
because
our minds are already
in the same place,
thoughts stuck
to each other
absentmindedly
communicating
through silence
and smilies and the
whistling of wind
through our palms

You want to talk about beauty?
let's discuss your lips
and how they
move with such wild
passion that I cannot
tear my eyes away and I notice
you noticing my intensity but I
cannot help it-
and your hazel eyes so bright
that they send me off onto
an oblivion so vast,
I can't help but think about
you when staring
into space.
You, my day dream,
you cannot be-but you are.
You are
the only person I will ever
consider to be beautiful
and it makes me mad, just
downright spitful of this world,
to be considered your friend, never a potential lover
So instead I will talk about that
petty, boy I cuddled
with last night,
whose fingertips were grazing my waist
and tickling me.
But if they were your hands,
I would have dreamt of lust and beauty
and not of hatred of this mad, cruel world:
let's talk about ugliness.

"Him", her mouth says

and he looks away

before he could see
her eyes screaming
"you"

and she tried not to show
just how she hurts

but it's hard.

He knows it too.

I have a sixth sense,

so I know
when it is going
to storm.

But I
did not have
an inkling
that you were
forming clouds
above my head,
moving in my range,
ready to fill my ears
with your cackling
after I
had seen shadows form
in your light.

you have
no idea
how it
feels
to be in love
with you.



you lucky *******.