from the way she studied his moves
how his hands moved
how his lips moved
the way he spoke
the way he wrote
from the way she studied his face
I could tell
from the way he moved his fingers
across the keyboard
across his face
through his hair
around his pen
from the way he moved his hands
I could tell
she loved him
she had watched him for a while
she felt she knew him
but he had no idea she existed
outside his screen

my eyes
ask you silently.

i dont want the answer
the way i want you
but i can't
help myself.

can't help but
imagine that
this is the last time
you
will grace
me.

i can't remember
a life
without you and the
heady suffocation
of your
gut-curling, heart-pounding
presence.
you've clean-slated me
the way
broken glass can
purge human vision,

your intoxicating soul wrapping me up
in its heated hollowness,

in that warmth
which keeps me up at night
and makes me
wish i could
drown
in the heavy circle
of your body.

and i can't imagine why
i fear
your vanishing
when more often than not

you,
your soul,
and your broken glass

are
the stuff of my
haunting dreams.

"Like never ending?"

I can still feel the presence of your arms around me,
Even after you're gone
The warmth of your hands, your lips
You

I felt whole.
Only me and you existed
In a never ending moment that I want to feel again
For an eternity.

Our hearts beat in time
When time stops
For us.
Just us, with no surroundings.

We are in midair
We are underwater
We are here
There's no need to leave.

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,
Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long forgotten snow.

I never understood “made in God’s image” until I saw her.
Anyone who’s seen her has higher expectations for what heaven looks like.

We’re both sensitive enough to know what love feels like,
and reasonable enough to know that it can be broken.

The first time you use a new toothbrush is nothing like the first time you kiss a girl,
But I still love them both.

Her laugh is a paradox; an outsider would think she either just said the cleverest thing ever or she wishes she could retract it faster than it was said.
Only I know it’s simply because it’s beautiful. It’s easily my favorite language.

I have considered wearing a wiretap so I could go back and listen to all of our conversations again. And I hope that it picked up her heartbeat. She told me, it’s beating exactly like life should sound like.

She offers to iron any wrinkled clothes. I don’t have any. But I have a wrinkled heart.
I thought it was made into origami but it’s just a wadded ball that missed the wastebasket.

The way she dances to hip-hop shows her versatility,
yet you can tell she doesn’t do this every day; but she still dances.

I’m almost too nervous to hug her - knowing it will have to end.
Whenever I let go, I feel like I made a mistake.

Her voice trails off into silence,
like an hourglass that’s trying to hold itself together.

I like that “click-clack” of her boots.
It lets me know I’m next to someone really going places.

She goes to the mini mart with me even when she doesn't want to get anything,
besides more time together.