Finding twigs in my hair
From where I impulsively rolled in the grass.
Ha.
Should have known that days of summer
Were too good not to pass.

You’re like a trick candle
When you light up
Atop a cake full of frosting and promise.
And I become so very excited!
Too excited.
And I think…
I can’t have my cake and my candle too.
Candles are pretty, temporary things.
Thank you for candles, but I can't keep them,
give me my cake!
And so I ***** out this silly idea
And set you aside.
And then all of the sudden you’re there again
Setting my napkin on fire.
Which is inconvenient.

Note to self: **** napkins.
Life is for sticking your face in cake
And then getting your hair caught on fire
By trick candles.

So many things to say to so many people
So many things that I’ll never say
At the end of the day it’s just me and myself
Lying naked on my bed
Fingernails longing for something they can’t touch
And doing their best to quench their thirst for life
And I’m dragging my toes along the bed-sheets
Squirming with the words unsaid.
And maybe I won’t let them spill
Because I’m afraid of the havoc they’ll wreak,
But maybe it’s because you wouldn’t listen
And you wouldn’t respond
And they would lay to waste and writhe and shatter
And crumble like a burning paper’s living soul
Left to clutter my mind
Like “This is all your fault. So pick it up.”
Even this will fall into a corner and be swept away
Because that’s what happens to the words I decide to say.

A couple of innocent words. A wink. I can’t pretend I don’t know how she feels. I suppose it’s the way that they all feel. And then I look at her.
She’s the kind of girl that you’d ironically fall for. Model skin, model hair. She actually speaks French, nom de diu! She takes pretty pictures of herself amongst the scenery, posing as one who is very much alive. You, who would protest about how photographs can’t capture the majesty of the world, and find a certain amount of deadness in that which is judged by the surface, you’d fall for her anyway.
With her pretty lips and pretty mouth. They could say the words that my mouth says and you wouldn’t find the same meaning, but you’d want her ideas that much more. The saccharine taste of pretty.
You just would.

I’m afraid for you to leave
Because when you’re gone
You won’t fit in any of the little picture-frames
I’ve built for you in my mind.
The edges will be blurry
And I’ll be losing part of the picture of you.

I’m afraid for you to leave
Because when you’re gone
You’ll continue to find all the beautiful new things
and you’ll try to shrug away the old.
You’re still learning to live;
It will hurt too much to keep this fresh.

I’m afraid for you to leave
Because when you’re gone
I’ll have one less thing that draws me to the hills
And the valleys and rivers of home.
Now that you too have heard the call
To venture from the blanket we’ve woven.

I’m afraid for you to leave
Because when you’re gone
You’ll find that you can never really come back
No matter how much your heart complains.
The world is too vast and you’re too young
To live amongst the things you love.

I’m afraid for you to leave.
I’m afraid, most of all,
Because when you’re gone…
Despite all the beautiful things that you’ll find
And despite all the lessons you’ll learn over time
And despite the new loves and new dreams that await
And despite the fresh views that new places create
And DESPITE that your conscience will blossom and bloom
And despite that new life and new love you’ll exhume…
I’m afraid of one thing, and it’s breaking my heart
To be scared, when you’re daring this brand-new start…

I’m afraid your long glance is the last that I’ll see.
I’m afraid that you’ll never come back to find me.