Heart beats

you breath

what a lovely scene

you peel

my layers

almost like string cheese

Soft curdled interior now at its eutectic
Holds a bifurcated square of gluten
Equally carbonized together
In an **** of ill-advised but sensual nutrition

This is love,
What I feel for this small puddle of warm cheese dip.

I love it.
With all the love I have to love,
But I eat it.
The thing I love is fleeting.

It's fleeting because I make it fleet.
I slowly eat away at it until it is gone.
And now that it's gone,
It hurts me.
Physically, my stomach rolls over because I am lactose intolerant.
Emotionally, my heart yearns for more because it was so perfect.

But it was worth loving, even through the pain.

I look up and wear my best smile.
I say cheese just for
an added effect
plus a free cute little chuckle
they will surely buy into it now!
Falling into the trap that
I am ok
Even though
I'm not

I used to be able to go places
not caring about appearance.
But others stared.
I was the weird kid who didn't
smile
laugh
frown
or cry.
Apparently if I don't look the part
I become an outcast.
People tried to guess my problems

     Maybe she needs counseling.
     Have u considered ADHD?
     Is she depressed?


They wouldn't stop.
The questions surrounded me
I would lie awake wondering
"What are the theories they made today?"
I couldn't take it anymore.


I
Put
The
Mask
Back
On

I hated it but there were
too many questions;
my reasons became
less and less
believable,
and
more and more
suspicious.

I aways wear the mask now.
Can't forget to smile!
Say cheese!
Oh and laugh at that,
I imagine it was a joke.
Take that smile off now,
they might be saying something serious.
Wrinkle your forehead,
As if you are confused.
Because that's what normal people do.
I think.
And no matter what, don't take the mask off again.
Because they will know
this time
that it was all
just an act,
right from the start.

He pairs kinds of rain with kinds of jazz
like some folks do with wine and cheese.

He says a thunderstorm goes best with bebop
Especially if you can time the record just right
for the drums to explode just as the sky does

He says free jazz is for those unpredictable days,
where the rain keeps coming,
but will ebb and flow at it's own pace

He says a light Sunday drizzle is the perfect time
to pull out Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool,
and sip slowly on the moment

I think he may be a synesthete.