we sit
on white roofs
and carve our names into the wood.

your handwriting is much
better than mine,
and i am jealous
but only for a second
because you make me feel
like i am the world
like i am everything
and nothing
and all that is in between

like i am the flowers that grow
outside my bedroom window
unimportant to some
but appreciated by many

like i am the tattoo
hidden on the
inside of a wrist
or at the start of the collarbone
invisible to all
and shown to the ones
who see it for what
it truly means