I was scared, and you were scared,
and you are gone, and I am gone,
but in my heart your ghost remains,
a tiny girl inside my brains,
and she keeps me holdin onto the memory
of you and me

Sometimes I wonder—
Tossing, late nights—
Dark hair, dark eyes
Plainer than real
Printed in bold
On the backs of my eyelids—
Is this torture worth,
Are you really worth—

No! yells my angry
Heart, tired, worn-down,
Hands thrown up
Like Sisyphus’,
If his rock even was
Too heavy at the start

No! And none argues,
Only silence.

Next day you’re there—and
Weakly, No! forfeits
My desperate mind,
No! No! No!
My eyes must second
No! No! No!
My palms will to be dry, for
How could you ever be worth—

Then I catch you—
Smiling, the way you do
When you, and your sparkly little eyes,
And your mischievous dimples
All agree that nobody is looking—
Then, the question stumbles
Unfinished from my lips
And I don’t ******* care

I fall powerless, in love again
Every time you smile

Lazy with the ripples, faster on the bubbles,
Giving here a turn and there a bow
In the mellow summer breeze,
Two greenish-brown, veiny little things
Attached like lovers at the stem
Dance in the pond outside my window

Seeing these, my mind inclines
To follow in their mazy march

First a zig and next a zag; a lazy swooping arc;
A sudden, splendid pirouette, until
They tumble over from so much laughter,
Two young things in spring,
Twisting across the pond a gentle dance
Happily for my welcome distraction

My forlorn books, neglected, wave
Their angry pages in the wind

A sudden gust, a frenzy of turns,
A twirling leap!
Then slowly spinning down, locked in embrace;
Another gust! Skyward once more,
Even higher than before!
And falling finally flat,
Tired from dancing, together, they lie
On a bed of shimmering water

And I, I sigh, and rein my gaze
Upon the books upon the desk.

like the great blue heavens needs a burning sun.
in dark of night I look upon the stars,
twinkle-ers which I love,
awaiting only the creeping-red-feeling:
a brand new sun, and
a new blue sky

come on over to me, little duddee
take-a my hand and we, pretty bunnee
gonna gunna go out and-a see us somethin funny and-a
laugh-a all the scary thing aways

A big strong fisher man hooked a swift little fish
Who never got hooked--
At least, never before--
Tabled her upon one wide palm--

Incredible excitement this, for a one so tough in the taking--
The hardest to catch yearn hard for their catching--
Still, she would not be taken easy--
Squirming, flailing, biting, biting,
Biting the rough skin--

OW OW OW, heard she as flying through the air--
As landing in the water-- she splashed, but did not smile--
Feeling now only loneliness,
Now, the clumsy hook of some lesser fisher man

Teabag tugboat trashbag t bone tebow
*****

n I don't like him