And today,
I want to paint
dreams for you.
Dreams painted
between the gaps
of our fingers.
Sipid and Wild.

"And she would run her
gentle, icy fingers
through my hair
like frosty wind
would caress me
on cold winter mornings."

Nose Prints…by Jessie 2/07

Little nose prints on the glass
Evidence of curiosity
Mesmerized by goings on
Intriguing and captivating
Holding long bouts of attention
Ten little finger prints on the glass
Stationing, for a closer look
Starving to see more
Intensely interested
What charms tantalize the senses?
Focused in daydream
Invisible to those who see you
The moment has passed
You are on your way
Left behind… little nose prints on the glass

Fingers trace

the crescent moon coffee stain
on the otherwise white napkin.

Nothing left
between us now
but donut crumbs.

the curtains rise and all i can think about are the rows of faces that i know nothing about and the pressure of putting on a good show
my body moves according to muscle memory as the music starts to play

don't miss your cue
don't miss your cue
don't miss your cue

i hit each note and beat as needed, but that's just the first scene
you come up on stage once again the same time i do
and you look at me the way you were instructed to do so

don't break character
don't break character
don't break character

i deliver the lines as i'd internalized for
but little do you know i'm dying inside
we're told to look eye to eye for this one song
and i slide my fingers through the spaces between yours

don't fall in love
don't fall in love
don't fall in love

i braced myself for the last few notes of the song, but i braced myself even more for the reality that is to come once the curtains come down

i approach you offstage with every intention to tell you what i feel
but i miss my cue

i put on a strong face to show i'm not hurting
but i break character

i told myself i wouldn't let my feelings get in the way
but i fell in love

All these people spilling,
letting themselves slosh over the sides,
tossing back courage,
tongues slipping secrets with a flourish,
nonchalant, letting things fly.

My lid, usually ******* on tight,
loosens slightly,
but not enough,
not like the rest.
I play things close to the chest.
Y'all don't need to know about me.
y'all don't need to hear my things.
I've got dead friends,
I've got self-inflicted scars,
I've got self-hatred, loathing, lies, wounds,
but I share them crucially.
Don't try and rouse it from me,
if I share,
I care,
otherwise,
beware.

your hands were on my shoulders
just a little bit above
where my heart was overwhelmingly beating,

I made a little prayer,
that I'd stay scared,
because your embrace felt like home,
and I guess you could say
I was too scared to leave my new warm home.

Your fingers fell on my hand,
a mistake,
I thought, I now love mistakes.

The closer and closer we got,
the more distances I wanted to
travel to get to you.

I swear
if this isn't meant to be,
I promise it wouldn't be much of a surprise,
I swear it would be just
another day,
another person,
another feeling
that doesn't want to stay,

some reasons,
I'll just never know.

my favorite dance step of yours
is when your fingers
start to play the piano.

and because you,
who speaks little with strangers,
suddenly become the talk

of everyone
when you let your hands
speak for you.