Although I know your days are past the best
I act myself and credit your false-tongue in jest
You are biting life with loose and crooked teeth
6am drinking and prying at you body at the peak

As I lay in the grass
Tall and short
Wispy blades
Shuddering in the wind
Waving back and forth
Some blades
Bent and folded
Where I lay on top
Eventually if I ever get up
Those bent blades
Will make a silhouette of me
At least until
They get their strength back

But that might not happen
Because as I lay there
In the summery green
I can feel the rays of the sun
Warm and comforting
They seep through my skin
Swirling and swimming
Slowly melting me
Like a pretty little creamsicle
That was left in the sun
Melting until
The orange and white
Meld together
To create something beautiful

I am like that
As I lay here in the sun
Melting, mixing and swirling
The vibrant colors of who I am
Rare are the spots of black
But mixed in
With the rainbow of my soul
It creates a calming picture
Filling in my form in the grass
Showing the hard and good
Of someone
The hard and good
That make us so beautiful

Then the colors
Start seeping into the ground
After only a few minutes
The blades of grass stand
You could hardly tell I was there
Until
I come back the next week
To my favorite spot
Underneath the tall willowy tree
Its leaves swaying
But before I sit down
I look to the other side
And see mounds of flowers
That hadn’t been there before
I climb the tree to look down
And see
The flowers creating a beautiful girl
Basking in the sunlight
Created by pure and simple
Happiness.

He looks like messy eyebrows and endless lashes and his smile stops my heart every time. He looks disheveled, like his hands never stop running through his hair. His eyes are sweet and muddy and his hands are rough. He feels like work and strength. His arms are hard and his chest is solid and it's the only place I feel at peace. His breath on the back of my neck. He always smells like Copenhagen and swagger, it lingers on me after he's gone. Sometimes he smells like he's had a few cigarettes, and sometimes he smells like he's been laying in the grass, like dirt and raw nature. Or sweat and lust and he feels so hot. He's never cold and he melts the ice on my skin. His laughter is loud and infecting and his voice is deep and rough and forever etched in my mind. He is everything.

that one time, unsurpassed

at first, white
coral fountains drizzling
spring cotton, pink
candy dye
blushed
on stain
capped champagne

jackknife popped

fizzled soda
drop

the last
sweet, melty flavored
slink...

Loving me is like a cold front. I am scared of fire I can not control and you burn too hot for me. I can not see through your smoke and I am choking on your promises but it is my own fault because I let you think I was a volcano when I am an alp. Still, I grip your embers hoping if I burn off my finger prints I can be somebody new, somebody who is not killing themselves trying to love you. I want to be strong because weak hurts, and I want to kiss you and feel fireworks but all we get is steam. You are not my element and we are not star-crossed just incompatible. I am addicted to the burns you have inflicted on me: I feel them fade in your absence and I miss their sting. I like being reminded that you hurt me, I like being reminded that you touched me once. That you looked at my jagged edges and dared to grab on knowing like glass I could shatter but trusting that I wouldn't: you liked me to believe I was strong. I thought we were perfect for each other and I get stuck in our memories. I can only remember your perfections, and the little things about you until I can only smile because nobody knows fire like I do. I let you take everything I had but I can not control you. You rage through everything; brashly burning paths that aren't familiar to me and you don't want me anymore, you make me wonder if you ever did because you seem to like having me watch. Watch you love other people properly. Watch you finally blaze in the life you've always wanted. I am only trying to rebuild my snowy disposition but you keep lighting me on fire. I don't like fire I can not control.

Infatuation;
   the science of arresting human intelligence long enough to get blood from it.

When the bracelets that you wear become
symbolic of who you love,
and I wore two while you had none.
Would it matter how these bracelets looked?
If it does:
One was pink, it bore the symbol of Christianity
I had been asked many times if it was
but all it proved was my unconditional sinless love
for you
the other was striped, red and white
while everyone told me it "was so much like me"
I wore it because it "was so much like you"
and by now we had melted into each other.

I suppose we started falling apart when they did,
the first I lost yesterday.

I do not know if love is right
To describe what I have felt
But every time he holds me tight
I then proceed to melt...