your hair, is the grass that interconnects the world-- I am he as you are he, and he is we, and we are all together. I wish I could plant myself in your head and grow like your blonde roots (as you have planted yourself in my heart, and claimed your property), like golden rod. like golden rod, like dandelion, like daffodil, like sunflower.
your mind, is the collective thought and poetic compilation of every beautiful phrase ever remembered, written, felt, or forgotten. you are the deep thinkers of our generation, of our past, of our tomorrow. your mind induces a dreamlike coma-- I'm begging to be free of-- tose.
I forgot how to breath around you.
and on the seventh day, god created the terrain that is your face; sloping, folding, curving, freckled plains. carved out of the most precious and delicate porcelain, curving in all the perfect places-- high peaked cheeks, roaming down your nose, my feet leave sun peppered kisses.
I travel down to your full, shapely lips. warm and lively, they taunt me; I want to taste your strawberry kiss.
your chin curves taut over your featherweight bones.
I can't control myself when I reach your neck-- salivating over your creamy skin-- it's ungodly and irresistible (oh god, I want her).
your shoulders, something that I've traced over and over again. I've memorized your every visible curve.
she dips in all the right places.
my breath catches in my throat when I come to your unexplored crevices. every single particle-- I want to feel her soaked in sweat, I want to touch your softest skin.
"lupdub lupdub lupdub." your heart is pounding through your chest. we become one.
grasping frantically at your tiny waist, pulling them, pulling you, into me. I'm begging you to close the space between us-- the distance is killing me, my heart is slowing, my mind is deteriorating without you; I think this is what death feels like.
molding me into you, I bruise your body and you batter my heart. teeth grazing over your love. let me trace your body with something other than my hands. I'm tired of pretending this doesn't hurt.
believe me when I tell you that the desire to hear the panting of your shallow breaths in my ear is unbearable.
I may not be flawless, but I promise to try harder than all the rest.
dragging my lower lip over your sweet skin I draw in a deep breath--
lacing my hands through your hair I whisper in your ear,
"I lo-"
--crashshatterbreak everything is being ripped away oh god where did the time go what did I do wrong how could you leave why don't you need me who is that what isshedoingwhyissheholdingyourhandwhyisshekissingyourneckohgodohgo­dohgodohgod--
-st you."

And if the piano breaks it's because each time you kiss me it feels like I've taken a bullet to the brain.
Today, I looked into your eyes and saw nothing but forever.
I think that maybe, if you took my hand, we could fight infinity.

I've never believed in God, but ****, I think you're my religious awakening; THIS is a baptismal revival.
I think I was dead until the day we met- you give me life.
Whispers: "safe, safe, safe."
She strikes a key to play me out of tune.

What does she look like in the dark?
What do you wear when you're alone? (I wear the black pendulum)
Seastar, starfish, lover, oh how I'm suffocating on my anguish.
Convince me to forgive him, and then I will try and forgive myself for all that he has broken.
For the ***** nights, the rancid sheets, ten years of filth- it would take an eternity to scrub out my stains- ugly.
Whispers: "****, ****, ****."
Screams: "daddy please, daddy no, daddy no, stop it!"
It's hushed up by the sounds of the broken piano- the unforgiving black sacrament.

Steel and skin, forgiveness and pain.
You can only hide for so long; sleepmonger, deathmonger, counting sheep. When will these childhood nightmares end?! Oh.

So, 1, 2, 3, 4, who's that looming at my door?
5, 6, 7, 8, he calls it love, she calls it ****.
9, 10, 11, 12, he put her though ten years of hell.
13, 14, 15, 16, who could love her scars- so distinct?
17, 18, 19, 20, fall for me; so sick of running.

(a.m.) 05/05/14

I want to be your today.
I want to be your tomorrow.
I want to be your everyday, every which way.
I want to be your twenty-fifth birthday, spent alone with a bottle of bourbon.
I want to be the breath between your words.
The long flight back home.
The first holiday spent abroad.
I want to be the steaming cloud of breath, on a cold January, three years from the next.
I want to be the sheets at night; the flipside of your pillow.
The favorite restaurant.
The hole in your pocket.
The knot in your shoelace.
The freckle on your nose.
I want to know the story of your first broken bone
(If there was one).
I want to know the religious awakening.
I want to know the cherished childhood memory.
The playground bullies.
The third grade science project gone terribly wrong.
Tell me about how he broke your heart.
Tell me about how she broke your heart.
Tell me how to make it better.
Give me the insoluble remedy; give me the chance.
I want to be your unanswered question.
I want to be the first thing when you wake.
I want to be the last thing when you rest.
I want to know your deepest secret.
Tell me about how it molded who you are today.
Give me the light- give me you.

You exist between the books on my shelves.
You exist in each stroke of my pen.
You exist where my punctuation doesnt
(See, you were right there).
You exist in the unsung melody.
The bruise on my hip.
That trigonometry homework left unfinished.
Those lyrics not remembered.
I think of you in the morning.
In the morning with disheveled hair, and bleary eyes.
I think of you with the click of a pen, the turning of the page.
With the brakes of the city bus.
With the bell after fifth period.
With those fading scars on my side.
You are my first encounter with the salty waves of the coast.
You are my first encounter of a well-rehearsed routine.
You are the roots of my hair.
You are the cherished memory.
You are the only one.
You are beautiful.
You are genuine.
You are brave.
You are you.
And, you make me me.

(a.m) 04/21/14