sleepy
it's one am. and the colors are flowing
remember those lights changing in the attic,
sloped ceilings and a hookah
we sat on the floor and he stared at the doorknob,
and we discussed the width of the closet
pillows on the ground,
people on the pillows,
faces in shadows, smiles and heavy-lidded eyes
love for those friends who aren't friends but are.
love for those friends who are more.

we drink we smoke we laugh we listen to grime and dance around the tin foil and smoke and the blinds are closed and the door is locked and we have to be quiet because shh, the neighbors. and I didn't know you before but now i do because you're drunk and i don't know what i am but i said hi and you adjusted your yellow beanie and smiled at me. you make music, i learn,
and we talk and we talk and we talk

then driving, the streetlights flood,
he said it was like surfing and that he was chill and he couldn't remember and he stepped in the snow with socked feet, he lost his birkenstocks
he found his birkenstocks
he flipped his hair and his red eyes were content
and then Let it Be came on the radio and I sang the tune while my legs twitched and my foot twitched on the gas pedal and she laughed from the backseat and I wondered how wide the road was and how much air there is to breathe in the world, and then the cold felt so great
red lights flashing, stop. go. home.

i'm smiling at the orange of the fire
there's a hamster running besides me and i wonder if he is happy
they were happy,
and i forget where the money is but she slipped it in my pocket
snacks in the kitchen
its one am
drink some water,
there's always Marcie's Diner in the morning.

Our eyes meet
it's electric , almost magnetic
we look at each other as if we are
the only people on earth,
and in our minds we are the gods
of the universe,
our souls are united , we are not
two hearts but one,
we are the love couple's in folk tales
uniting in this life time.

We exchange words that
sound poetic while we sit
and feel them course through
our every vein. The love we
share is a bit chaotic. We sit
at night up in our attic. Watching
the silver moonlight from the
window frame. Counting the
stars like it's the only game.
We tangle our hands as if they
are tied with shackles and chains. The only thoughts that come
to our brains are thoughts of
our love and how it all happened
as it was  unarranged. Sitting
in the attic you touch my skin.
Making it feel like a wild flame
that's being put out by rain.
Looking in your eyes i see the prettiest sunrise. Holding your
hands feeling ocean waves. I
listen to your heart as its beats
rhyme with mine. I want you
curled under my skin and always
in m mind. I want you standing
safe and guarded behind the
cage of my ribs. Just like babies
do at night in their cribs. We are
the lovers that the poet's mentioned back in the old age

We are the lovers whom are destined to meet each other in every life time again and again**  ~

It wasn't the way she walked or the way she spoke.

It wasn't even the way she was so distant, mysterious, perplexing, an everlasting enigma. It wasn't the way she could never quite articulate the distance from her body or the distance from everyone else.

It wasn't the way she didn't want to be kissed and only wanted *** because it was rough and made her feel something. It wasn't the way she loved ****** art, the way it looked at a ****** scene.

It wasn't the way she could smile. Intense. Everything she did was all or nothing, everything was the intensity of one extreme or the other. The only conception of "in-between " she had, was love.

It was the way she walked away, leaving behind a massacre of broken hearts.

*(you never had me at "hello", but god, what an impression of "goodbye")