and you traipse through my heart like a child in tulips
friday will be two years.
two years to the day that we met - said i love you - moved in together - discussed marriage
so i was looking at the few things i still have that we had exchanged during those first few weeks.
"i kept you like a diary.. i wrote us into the cosmos…"
and
(left on my computer)
i never keep anything anyways. except you. i keep you here in my pocket, there in the chair beside me, mixed in my blood, and watch you dance through the days in pink ballet slippers, slipping on newly waxed floors and falling through the ceilings of all the boundaries and barriers i ever set up, oh clever tactician.. iloveyou.
measure for measure..shakespeare, yet i keep saying that phrase. i enjoy it..and diamonds constantly find their way into my freethought lyrics, practicing.
---------------------
(from his journal)
i dreamt the summer on your lips and of rhyme and meter..
distance collecting moments for further inspection..
memory trying and writing the dates and smiles..
i tasted your lips for hours, and glowed in the memory
of you.
i saw you driving up, 2 blocks away, and skipped a breath
and hid slightly behind the door.
tomorrow, like today, like everyday.. as everyday should be.
--------------
and from me (obviously not the superior writer)
Count every yellow highway line
like daffodils in scenes you stole,
from films of lonely lovers who
are ever lacking hands to hold.
With quiet droplets on my wrist,
we keep our years in bathtub plans.
These singularly plural nouns
have been with us since time began.
And in faint shadows shaped like stars,
our stellar parallax combines
to distort distance differently
now that we see through the same eyes.
Shards of glass on sidewalks lay
like yellow bricks to lead us home.
The man behind the curtain sings
a lovesong on his megaphone.
Though time stops with inverted flames,
it's never long enough for us.
As far as everlasting goes,
I never trusted it so much.
------------
so many more.
but i want to keep most to myself - like secrets.
and it's probably disgusting to read other people's love letters.
but i'm entitled to some sentimentality every once in a while. i am a silly girl, after all.
two years to the day that we met - said i love you - moved in together - discussed marriage
so i was looking at the few things i still have that we had exchanged during those first few weeks.
"i kept you like a diary.. i wrote us into the cosmos…"
and
(left on my computer)
i never keep anything anyways. except you. i keep you here in my pocket, there in the chair beside me, mixed in my blood, and watch you dance through the days in pink ballet slippers, slipping on newly waxed floors and falling through the ceilings of all the boundaries and barriers i ever set up, oh clever tactician.. iloveyou.
measure for measure..shakespeare, yet i keep saying that phrase. i enjoy it..and diamonds constantly find their way into my freethought lyrics, practicing.
---------------------
(from his journal)
i dreamt the summer on your lips and of rhyme and meter..
distance collecting moments for further inspection..
memory trying and writing the dates and smiles..
i tasted your lips for hours, and glowed in the memory
of you.
i saw you driving up, 2 blocks away, and skipped a breath
and hid slightly behind the door.
tomorrow, like today, like everyday.. as everyday should be.
--------------
and from me (obviously not the superior writer)
Count every yellow highway line
like daffodils in scenes you stole,
from films of lonely lovers who
are ever lacking hands to hold.
With quiet droplets on my wrist,
we keep our years in bathtub plans.
These singularly plural nouns
have been with us since time began.
And in faint shadows shaped like stars,
our stellar parallax combines
to distort distance differently
now that we see through the same eyes.
Shards of glass on sidewalks lay
like yellow bricks to lead us home.
The man behind the curtain sings
a lovesong on his megaphone.
Though time stops with inverted flames,
it's never long enough for us.
As far as everlasting goes,
I never trusted it so much.
------------
so many more.
but i want to keep most to myself - like secrets.
and it's probably disgusting to read other people's love letters.
but i'm entitled to some sentimentality every once in a while. i am a silly girl, after all.