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maybe we're not drowning,
maybe we're just floating underwater
hm
can't get out of my head
the way your voice sounds
when you're biting back
a shy smile.
trying to articulate my thoughts
drunk on the idea that
2 a.m. phone calls give way
to true love,
and afternoon suggestions
would give you a reason
to see me soon.
feeling some type of way
I fall in love
with bits of people,
rarely a whole person.
Like crooked smiles on subway stations
or untied shoelaces
or favorite books
or eyes that look like blinking galaxies--
I see the puzzle laid at my feet,
your collarbones, your self-hatred, your bitten down fingernails, your detachment, the wars of your mind, the curve of your spine, the way you scrawl your name with indifference--
All these broken fragments that
shatter and surround me
like the wine glass I dropped,
Shards of glass,
your eyes
reflect me
the deep blood red wine
Drops like crystalline desire--
I might romanticize your flaws
and I might make walls of disillusionment,
but I swear I'll love you like you're whole.
Love unselfish
She called me a beautiful, talented              a r t i s t.
but I shook my head and
called her a              
           m a s t e r p i e c e .
I think I could fall in love again.
I should feel the sharp sting of Betrayal,
as easy as it may--
I have forgotten many Memories,
and forgotten which ones have Stayed--

You gave your so called love to Another,
You gave "our song" as "hers"--
As I was once a beautiful Angel,
am now the devil that you curse--

and How carefully do we tread upon,
the cracks within our faults--
are only the things we let up on,
pretending to exalt--

So it seems only right that I would write,
a Vindictive note Of You--
But darling, I haven't an ill-intent
and the past, I cannot rue.
Angel by Jack Johnson, one detail I remember.
The desire to become
a virtuoso and prove
that I am indeed worthy
of traveling in the pursuit
of my passions
or in the pursuit
of you--

commendable cogitation
or
fool's errand?
gatsby. one can only wonder.
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