i think about him a lot.
and what it meant, a fifteen year old romance,
the picture of our feet in their rhythm taking us somewhere.
His lips were smooth and his hips were white petals blooming.
And i wonder how it felt to be able to talk to someone
like i talked to him- forever.
even the nights we were desolate and desperate,
flinging around words about death so we could process it,
we could speak for hours and hours and never stop.
I could understand why I could die for his name.
But I still wish I didn't.
It obviously wasn't to me what it was to everyone else.
It meant more, our words, our kisses, our early mornings to roll over and say i love you.
i remember the bliss between the sheets, that cool air running over my legs intwined with his, and the sound of his breath,
sweet and soft and mine.
And I could understand why I would want to die in his name.
But I'm the only one who understands it,
and I wish I didn't.
Present beaus present interesting evidence of how much I loved him.
I try to look in their eyes and feel what I did, but no matter how hard I try I can't.
Its as if my body was made for one person only and that is my music.
Everyone else is out of tune.
When I visit the new, we laugh and exchange conversation just like I did with him, but its different.
I feel so much less.
I hold his head and whisper in his ear and kiss his lips but it means nothing to me and I would give it up in a second.
I can understand why people would die in anguish, shouting out for those who could sustain their soul, but don't.
I see him, I whisper, my baby, my love, my sweet, my destiny.
I wonder how it feels to talk to someone without pain.
I wonder about our feet in their rhythm and why they led me away away away.
I don't care about anyone else, I know in my heart he is the one.
I understand why I would do that, die a thousand times, while in my skin I carved his name.
His voice was a cocoon, his lips smooth, his hips white petals that just had bloomed.
I will love him forever and theres nothing I can do.