your music -both of your music is resounding,
as i try to make my words beautiful
when all the while they’ve just been readable.
you pile small words into loving strings and blocks,
you put music in my ears and show me
that which brings you joy.
do i bring you joy?
i want to bring you basket-fulls of it.

you are not what i should allow -i cannot allow you to reside in these corners of my mind,
which are supposed to hold the tall tanned forms of men and the awkward and gangly boys
who play in the schoolyard.
they’ve run off to shoot their basketballs, tap their thumbs against their screens,
really i don’t need them to feel soft butterflies in my stomach,
they’ll never have the incandescent butterflies in me for their own,
they can’t deserve it.

these uneven strands, like paper beads in front of the pale moon,
glowing above the waters of a small village,
are heartfelt and wonderful,
like the declarations i imagine are given there,
where the rest of the world meets the scintillating fireflies and slow dreams on slow river canoes.
can you imagine us, if our brains were not so worried about soaring ahead -if we had time to experience those in-between moments that allowed us to fall in love?

but we have no in-between moments,
even though i delude myself every night, dreaming of a day when i put my pencil down,
and allow myself see you -sitting next to me while eating, your warm voice on the phone laughing softly in my ear,
you laying next to me while watching the stars -ever distant as always,
just as much of a mystery to me as the map of the night sky and it’s burning stars, spinning clouds,
and utter cold.

each delusion has become a beautiful memory, a twisting mystery.
a soft touch to the face, brushes of hands. could you be in love,
or was it just that i was your favorite girl -today? or were you brave?
do you miss me? my large eyes want to drink you up, and allow myself to imagine us,
doing more than brushing hands and painting each other’s faces over and over and over again,
until we’ve made masterpieces out of words and feather-light wanting.

if you rush through life
only looking toward something inthe future
you’re going to find
that when that moment comes
the only thing you will feel
is regret

morning dew drops on your collar
impressing me with the zealous way the seasons drastically measure the moment it takes me
to reach forwards and brush it off
liquid winter falling onto a ***** cement
the initials 'F T' written jaggedly into the cold stone of asphalt
i wait for it to disappear, for the flicker of everything gone to fade from my vision
but it passes too quickly
i look back up and there's no one around
the street is empty and the capricious wind has ceased
a sucker for patterns i walk into a fabric store and feel my hand linger on the erratic linens
fingers paused on the peach organza sprawled like a pink bubblegum sea
and i am swept into the manic fantasies of wearing the sheer tissue-like textile into
the abdomen of your sweaty palm and sinking like a sticky sweet stripe
until you put your hand in your pocket and i spend a year inside melting
into the every thread and curve of your jean until it is nothing but disgusting sugar
everything i could be when i am hidden from sight in the dark caverns of denim pants
who knew the tongue in cheek joke would be nothing but my tongue in your mouth
touching all the way up your gums  
find me sweltering beneath the uvula wondering if i could go back
to the time i found that girl with the mountain logo sweatshirt who whistled between her teeth and hummed all the reasons i should skin my knee and kiss the salty wound because there's no greater pleasure than knowing you don't have to wait for that morning dew drop to fall from their ******* collar

everything can change in a fleeting moment
lives lost in seconds
in this moment you are alive
take it not for granted

A word can save
another day
           for someone to see the
brightest side of the darkness.

For within syllables
                      are meanings
that unconsciously re-ravel
              that last thread.

And they awake to another
                                  day.
not realising that single word
  yesterday brightened there day.