I get a glimpse of the way you smell,
within a breeze,
or a slight second breeded by a thought of you.

It fills the deep caverns of my heartsick lungs.

I'm learning to see, still.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a large body of water,
i want nothing but the sky.

I plead and beg to myself for evaporation,
to make it's way up to you.

Your sky.

You are my sky.

And this is what I call my poetry,
written to the stars.

You'll never feel it,
you'll never hear it exactly how my heart
plays it to me.

Like a broken record,
it's all I hear.

It gets jumbled and shy
by the time it goes from my mouth to your ear.

And instead of being everything,
it points to nothing in countless ways.

My calendar is littered with faces,
and names..
All are ruins.

I'm constantly recycling these names,
these faces..
Removing another word
written into forgetting
by myself,
who continues to write them.

I create one word,
and it flows in silence.

I'm left staggering when I don't have you,
like god accidently learning how to create humans,
it's beautiful
and tragic
at the same time.

I once called you the sun forever setting in my heart,
but i created this setting sun..
in this vast human river
filled with corpses of people who have drowned before you.

I didn't even ask you if you could swim,
I didn't even bother to ask if you wanted to.

I just threw you in.

I created this loneliness.

And I'm afraid you're looking at the shore.

I'm scared to death that you're swimming to it.

Maybe you're tired,
maybe you're wrinkled
you might even be thirsty.

Or maybe you just don't like rivers.

I can't bring you to the land,
so I'm netting you off..
[to detach from you]
into an undertoe
that I'll be forced to eventually write off.

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