(i like you for you)

honestly,
its for this reason, i must
alwayskissyournose
and i think its the cutest.

or how,
i cannot wait for your freckles to come out
eventhough
its

justasnice,

in febuary.

you cause my body symptoms too real, too important to ever get better.
you have camee into, made a nest, and leave reminders of you in every corner of my mind; you are too perfect.

i will love you, still, after all of the world has gone away.

Clownlike, happiest on your hands ( Read more... )

look, my fingers, which have touched you and your warmth and your crisp littleness, see? do not resemble my fingers. my wrists hands which held carefully the soft silence of you {and your body smile eyes feet hands] are different from what they were. my arms in which all of you lay folded quietly, like a leaf or some flower ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

a part of me is missing. i am reminded everytime a bird sings and everytime the wind blows [which is quite often] i am told to always love, by the person who no longer "loves" me and [how could that be?] ee cummings wrote about love, shakesphere wrote about love, i have felt love, so i know it must be true. its somewhere. becuase i have heard it in ( Read more... )

i dont believe there to be any sycamore trees on these streets, only tiny greeen signs leading you the way. some girl keeps touching her nose and making a face like no other face i have ever seen before. its reminding me of little old ladies sitting down in church buildings, still building something out of life. well, thats plenty nice, becuase im ( Read more... )

washington street is made up of four parts. the first starts at the tippity-top where the round turns to waves. a bridge ends here, and pretty soon the ripples start. second, a house that has been being built for almostsixyearsnow. benches lined up in rows, small children playing tag, grandmas and grandpas walking dogs. the third part is made of ( Read more... )

i rearranged the place a hundred times today, but the oredering of objects couldnt hide whats missing.

the air and lights are way to high above my head. still, stars are forever and constant friends, [never are tiny voices shoooting through airwaves.]