It must’ve been 1992,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

The moon’d later melt,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

The boys met the girls,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

I’d never forget, “tender,” her thigh,
And all I’d remembered was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

And leaves later felled their own trees,
But all I’d ever remember was the smell of
Maple
On my fingers.

*Note - Yosemite, 1992, her name was, "Elizabeth," and we always fall in love come the first attempt at, "connect," right?

I didn't care to lose it,
it was a paperweight to me.
And i was lifted into different corners of possibilities as i was freed,
I was no longer caged in the idea
that I was young or naive,
that no one could know me.

And still no one knows me,
for I'm not just my body.
My soul;
it's own entity.

And though I curve towards you,
I know your warmth,
and I shiver
under your chest,
You are no different
than the rest.