Everything makes me think about you and the first time I saw your face and it all hurts.

Walking home from the bus-stop in just a sweatshirt
because I'm too lazy to put on a coat.
I reach my hand out towards the mailbox,
and notice its iciness,
shivering and stuffing it back in my sleeve.

All of a sudden I'm laying on the ground with you
and you've noticed my frozen hands,
and taken them in both of yours.
And all I can think about is how your hands are remarkably warm,
and inviting,
and how mine now feels so comfortable, as you rub the cold away,
And you just turn and smile at me, saying,
"Any better?"

And my realistic world comes crashing
through memories
and I've landed on a pile of sharp rocks
because I don't know if anyone is ever going to be as sweet as you
and all of the things you did.

You leave me tounge-tied and dizzy,
more sea-sick than any sailor.
Stomach churning,
I experience the hangover
of being in your presence.
I know you don't feel about me
the same way I feel about you.
In a completely different way than I thought,
you're everything I'm not.
I don't love you.
I see who you are.
So, please, tell me why.
Why am I still holding on?

No woman, and I sure don't see any tears

That song again.
Really, must it play on the radio?
One verse,
and I feel my stomach drop
like a roller coaster ride.

The cashier
looked at me wierd
as I was standing there
Arms holding back the butterflies
fluttering around my middle.
Tightly braced,
as if I'm broken into two fragments
that must be held together.
My brow furrowed,
my eyes blinking,
trying to push memories out.

A dusty cafeteria
buzzing with
orange shirts and laughter,
tin foil and robots,
and the low rythm of regae
softly playing in the background.
Both hands reached to cradle
just one of mine
then moved
to stroke my arm.
Bright eyes shining
into my eyes
and my ears
that voice sweetly murmuring
for me alone...

A shake of my head
as the song fades away
and your face disappears.
I'm left in the dark
that is confusion
and singing myself to sleep.

Hey, and isn't that what you want to be?

Typed out from a keyboard
lifesize or small,
Or spoken
crackling on my answering machine...
your compliments facinate me.

Each word you speak adds to this growing mixture in my head.
It gets murkier and murkier each day,
like many different colors of paint added to water.

Really what I want
-is it too much to ask?-
is what I first percieved...
my perfect fantasy.

But instead you are deception.
You are everything that is unclear.
You are the taste of pomegranate seeds,
full of perfection and awe,
until their flavors vanish,
and leave that odd bitter taste on your tounge,
reaching your hesitant hand out for more.

Mishmashclashingbash.

In my mind I'm running through a field
catching daffodils
that are falling from the sky.

Real life isn't professional photographs,
and sometimes I don't feel like I'm a lion in tall grass.
I worry about ticks,
and nettle stinging my legs.
But then I toss my hair,
and roar a little anyway.

Throw some glitter out the window,
sing a song into to the dark.
Eat apple until you reach the core,
and kayack in the park.

When you run you almost fly,
two feet up at one time.
See?
Gravity has been defied by me,
I've already been touched by the moon.

Hold my hand,
I'll lead you through the forest,
or up from the underground.
Preach Dr. Seuss,
and speak of kings
who lived without their crowns.

I hate when I don't feel like I have a hold on my life.
Like it's spinning out ahead of me.
I just have to finish this project,
and then i'll be able to finish the next one,
and then I can clean this clutter in my room,
and then I can...
what?
Find myself?
I don't even have time to know who I am,
with all of this.
School really shouldn't be this.
Spending hours at a desk,
on a bed,
writing answers to question they're hardly going to even read...
Why?

You and me? Me and you?

All I know is my hands fits perfectly in yours,
even though it's small.
Remember when we tested out the size?
and yours stretched way over mine?
I said, "Baby hands,"
and you said, "Naww,"
and pulled my hand up to your chest,
and left it there,
our fingers intwined,
your thumb stroking mine.

All I know is I feel safe in your arms,
even when I'm about to fall.
Remember when you layed down,
and reached your hands up to take mine?
I was suprised to be yanked down beside you,
and laughed out loud.
You reached around to pull me close,
and held me there,
our lungs breathing,
hearts beating,
in time.

"I've been missing you since the moment we last parted ways."

Not everything is clear.
But I really miss you too.

I remember that night,
after the Olympics.
You sitting behind me,
and drumming your excitement out on my legs.
And then,
after we mixed up to sing songs,
I couldn't see you.
It's not as fun holding the hand of a stranger.
And,
there was so much emotion in that tiny room.
It seemed like not a single eye was dry,
and no one wanted the guitar to stop...
or their voices.
The counselors were even reluctant,
calling us out to friendship circle by our clans.
In their voices you could hear the longing,
to stay together,
for just one more verse.
But everyone left,
group by group,
shoulders shaking
hands over faces.
We were second to last,
and my eyes were brimming,
and even though I couldn't quite make sense of it,
something in me understood the pain and joy.

I found you as we left,
sobbing,
and trying to wipe at your eyes.
You saw me,
and your expression was the strangest thing,
like happiness through your tears.
I think.
You said, "Hey you,"
and hugged me.
I didn't know what to do.
I remember standing next to you,
and holding you and someone elses hand,
listening to your wavering voice,
as you tried to croak out taps.
Well, I sang extra loud for you.
But I didn't know what extra I could do,
when I heard you turn away after and say,
"Four years. My first tears in four years."
and then more quietly...
"I knew it would happen here."

I think about you on the sunny days.
All I can feel are the rays on my skin,
and the damp grass on my back,
as I lay down in my memory,
you lowering yourself down soon after,
beside me.
I'm staring at clouds,
and you point some out,
slipping your glasses over my eyes
and scooching yourself even closer
and stretching your hands up.
That smell of yours that I love,
that voice saying, "Ahhh, nothing better than lying in the sun."
I wanted nothing more than to let myself sink into your arms,
forever.

Not much feels that perfect.