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In a flower bed
Of rose and thorn,
Scarlet and green,
As we stem into one
Growth under blankets
White with joy, blue
As blood, we pluck
The petals left for us,
We tangle in thickets,
Moisted lips of heaven
Of clover and of daisy,
Milky as the wet stars,
Honeyed in the night
Hive and sumptuous
Joining, like clouds,
Opening above, we
Drench ourselves, cry
In drops, teary rains
That break, inwards,
Eyes, entwining with
Hot limbs unknotted
Till there is the spent
Wonder of skin scent,
Steeps of salt and sea,
Each leftover of touch
An outcast, a grieving.
 Jan 2016 tiredsmiles
j a s
i was like his spanish homework,
something he pushed to the back
of his mind again and again for
it was so tiring, exhausting and
looking at it, his eyes would waver
as fast as they landed on it.
he was like the ink to my pages,
something i could not go without
throughout the day and something
i needed when my mind was as blank
as the white ceiling i bore my orbs into
night after night, for i could but not sleep

i was like the abstract equation that
he tried to oh-so-much solve, but failed
for it was wracking his brain and even then,
he could not solve it and if he did
(which was likely to never happen)
he would still not understand and stuck
he would be, time after time till he
simply gave up.
he was like the figures to my equations,
something i needed in order to understand
and because it was the bottom and whole
of it all, and without those figures i would
not understand -- i needed them to begin,
so how could i end, without a beginning?

i was like the formulas he needed to follow,
in order to get the blue liquid in lab, and
then he needed to remember everything he combined
to convert it all into one new form but the thing
was, that he could hardly remember and so
everytime he tried, it exploded over and over again
till he was told to sit down and
observe instead, for he was not ready yet.
he was like the words i used to write
my chemistry report, something i needed
again and again, for it was mandatory,
the line to my start and
the punctuation to my end

and i was and he was, and to him i
was of no meaning and to me he was
every meaning -- every sentence of me
so why was it that i was nothing and
he was everything, not leaving my mind once
while i barely crossed his mind?
not even during my homework would he stop plaguing  my mind

— The End —