the walks to work in the rain or ash.
on my ears, heavy headphones where everything was ultimatly blocked out.
i could not hear you.
when all i did was think of a stranger who was beautiful but
beyond anything i could ever handle...
i was 18.
lying in my room with the low lights on
and music music music
always staring at me.
the carpet was a part of my skin,
i held it close and worshiped the strands left imprinted on my cheek.
i took some drugs back then
and called her on the phone
trying to describe the muscles of my chest
or my collarbone,
in other words secretly wishing that they would come over.
i was 22.
the whole world had came crashing down.
at a time when age meant nothing.
and sunsets were my favorite thing,
i did. and i had proof, i tell you.
_____ and i , we would drive on the freeway, telling lies
screaming verbs into the air
our arms scaling the sky.
and i would go to the bookstore, alot that fall.
and search out for hungry readers so that we could pick apart each other.
give me your hips, please.
give me them.
give me your lips, please.
you don't need them.
because you are so perfect,
i'm building your stem.