Though you’re long dead and gone
I can’t help but wonder how it might’ve went
If you’d come in that day.
I wouldn’t have lost a part of my heart
I wouldn’t have cried out my eyes
I would’ve seen your beautiful smile
What I wouldn’t give to see it one last time.

Sometimes I think you were my first true love
More than a crush, because I remember you.
Your soft voice and your sweet eyes
You towered over me but you were so kind
You made me laugh and you made me cry
But, darling, why—
I didn’t want it to end that way.

I was going to ask you to homecoming.
I never got the chance.
I never knew how you felt, darling—
I wish I had more time.
Because I simply can’t stop remembering—
No, no matter how hard I try.

Though you’re dead and gone
Up amongst the stars
I can’t help but wonder
What we could’ve been like.
Days filled with laughter, sitting beneath the pines
Talking about everything and nothing
You could’ve been mine.

We danced that year
What a wonderful night
You were the first time my heartbeat raced
Dear old friend of mine.
I sometimes wish I could stop remembering
But I know that would be a lie.
Because though you’re dead and gone, darling,
I still wonder from time to time.

Emptiness
echoes but does not return
the same lifeless message.
Only the stillness of the room reflects
such dreary gasps for color
and that still desire of the moth
longing to surpass its dull greys
for the wings of a fluttering butterfly
in its glory days.

i wonder if you ever think of me
when you see butterflies fluttering past
when you see an old book with yellowing pages
when you see daisies for sale at the farmers market
when you see gorgeous castles with large libraries
when you hear thunder pound on the roof at night
when you read poetry and see the profound meanings that lay behind it
when you smell lavender and incense float past you
do they remind you of me?
of all the moments and hundreds of conversations we had?
do you ever get reminded of all the things that make up me?
i remember all the things you used to write down about me so you wouldn't forget them
and i wonder if they stuck and ever remind you

rusted vases light the hallway
as the sun breaks over the trees
pictures float from the cracked walls
tattered floors from the living we’ve done

I wish life were written in pencil
because if it was
it would be so effortless,
to erase and remove
the mistakes
of the recent
and the long forgotten past.

It would be so easy
to forget
those awkward conversations
and all those unwanted sensations.

No trace would be left
of those painful recollections
and myriad rejections.

Things could be smeared and smudged
to the point where they could no longer be judged.

But this is why life is written in pen.
things can be crossed out
and disregarded.
but they will always be there,
permanent in our pasts.
a way of recalling who we once were
but remembering why we changed.

We must never forget how far we have come
because if we always erased our errors
we might forget
our progress is something to be proud of.

your whole body becomes a map made for me
to explore the uncharted territories
conquer the lands where I see fit to leave my mark
to seek and record with eyes and hands what is tangible
but I wish, more than anything, that I could uncover
your mind, your soul, your core, your being
to find my way under your skin as you have mine
the topography of your brain is a beautiful landscape
I want to study your phenomenology
to become a cartographer of your sulci and gyri
come to know the lines and ridges of your consciousness
create new methodology to observe and transcribe
your brain is a fingerprint unique, and yours
all the more beautiful for it's belonging