She jots down her feelings into that black journal with the red rose on the faded cover and the spine made out of red yarn to keep it held together. She writes about a boy, and how he has one green eye and one blue. I guess you could say he was a beautiful human being to her. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She never experienced any touchy touchy feely feely crap, but he had the veiniest arms and it's as if he had the roots of a tree clinging to him. She wanted those hands, those send, around her body. She wanted to kiss his lips to see if he tasted like a hurricane or a tornado, or simply even a raindrop. When you're around her hands get all clammy, her palms are soaked, as if she's holding the ocean in her hands, this is what sweaty palms of nervous love is. She wrote about how his eye was as blue as the ocean she was drowning in after he had gone and how the other was as green as the leaves on the tree she fell from when she first met him. She wrote about how that was the same tree whose roots clung to his arms and when she fell she lost her roots. His lips that she oh so dearly wanted to kiss were as red as the rose whose thorns pricked her heart and made it bleed and hurt every single time it beat. And his blond hair looked to be as yellow as the sun that she could find even on the cloudiest days, where the clouds were thick and the rain pouring but she found shelter being held in his arms. She loved counting the freckles on his face that were as numerous as the night stars. She fell in love with every single detail about him, yet she never saw the way he looked at her. She could paint a perfect picture of him just by memory, making sure every perfect detail was included, but she didn't see herself as beautiful as the boy with the blue eye and the green eye did. She's scared of him though, no matter how beautiful he may be, no matter how much he reminds her of the sun, or the roots of trees clinging to him like cobwebs clinging to her un-kisses okays. She wonders, what if she keeps quiet, what if she won't destroy you, but she's really hoping she doesn't destroy you with her smile, she doesn't want you to look for a way out when you haven't even made your way in. She finds her dad in silverware, as it clatters and falls to the floor, especially knives, dressed in memories, they stab her in the back like he stabbed her mom, he's why she's so scared, her Father up and left without reasoning, she's scared to put her trust in you like she did him. But, she'll find you in scalding water, as she's washing years of giving up off her history book hands... You're that abandoned building with a Danger sign hammered to a white chipped paint door, she's taking a chance and she's going to judge you for what's inside, and hopefully no halloween masks are covering up your heart, making you someone you're not. She's scared of what she will find inside but also knows she can't turn back when she find out. No matter what wires are broken and how unstable the building is she'll take her chances knowing that she very well can die in there but that would be better than dying before exploring the heart of her lover. She takes her adventure to learn more about this mysterious boy to find what lies behind his eyes hoping to glimpse into his heart and soul so she can jot down her discoveries in that journal. So she can see the truth in why those eyes are two different colors and why he never gets too close to anyone that loves him. He's just as scared as going in that abandoned building to find what lies within as she is, but he's even more wary of what he does ready to fled at the first sight of danger, at the first fallen wire he's ready to run but she keeps going trying to dig deeper into the mystery while he just doesn't want to be hurt by the girl with the brown eyes.

I don't quite know how I'd describe the taste of your lips, but for now I'll go with the rim of an old porcelain teacup, or soft rain from a bruised sky, or kerosene, you're about to set my tongue on fire with the taste of your love. You're an uprooted tree from a ghost-town-like night, filled with screaming tornado sirens and broken windshields from gulf sized hail. You could carry me quite far, you were damp new leaves weathering from Fall's best storm, and I destroyed you just as completely. With you, I like to forget boundaries, I like to let you dance on my fingers, and let my mouth hang ajar when you punch my jugular, stealing the breath I breathe. You always reach for my hands like they need rescue, they are safe in my pockets, safe by being still, not black and blue knuckle shaking fighting fists. I find you in scalding water, as I wash the past off of my history book hands, my Father has an anger building up in his throat, he knows about our love, the love we never say out loud, the love we don't want anyone to mourn for, he wants to preach a different kind of sermon, a sermon mouthed with cracked sidewalk-like hands, a broken heart, grease stained jeans with worn knees, tired eyes, and an unshaved beard, and chapped lips and a tasteful tongue ready to throw swear words at me like rotten tomatoes, but I can only hear the time bomb in his voice-tone. My teeth are doors, but they only welcome certain types of people in, people like you. You're that abandoned building with a Danger sign hammered to a white chipped painted door, and I'm so happy I judged you for what's inside. Before you, I never experienced any touchy touchy feely feely crap, but you have the veiniest arms, like the roots of a tree cling to you. My hands get all clammy, my palms get soaked, as if I'm holding the ocean in my hands, this is what sweaty palms of nervous love is. I find you in muddy rain puddles, I feel like I'm splashing around in the color of your eyes. I find you on my fingertips, the scent of your favorite food, French fries, lingers in between my fingers. Do I burn your skin with my furnace-like touch? Are my finger tipped fingerprints really trails of left behind scars from a burning match? You make me want to scratch at walls, these walls around me don't feel like home, I'm chipping away wallpaper in hopes I'm chipping my way through your chest, I'm searching for your heart. I've done a lot of thinking, you taste like rusty spigot water, but I can't stop drinking you, it's like I'm living in a drought and you're my only source of water supply. All the words you speak have a certain echo, and echo that lacks reverberation. Your words taste like you learned the hard way. I'm going to hold your hand so long you start to question what's wrong with me, I'm going to stare into your eyes for a long period of time and you're going to nervously smile and say you have to use the restroom. I want to love you so hard the sky explodes into pink and orange jealousy. Autumn is beautiful, much like our love, (the leaves change color), like our cheeks when we blush pink, (then gathered into piles), like you and I picked up each other's broken shattered vase-like hearts, (and then burned), like our love burns more and more passionately day by day.
(k.m.m)