writing poems in class again
10/18/2005 08:50 p.m.
i'm not surprised
that it was a
heat-of-the-moment
thing, and not an
i'm-crazy-about-you
thing

and i guess i should have seen it coming,
but i'll be honest and say i was absorbed by
your touch
your scent
your words
(you said i was pretty and god knows i haven't
heard that in awhile)

and in between our breath
stained with alcohol
i should have said
"i want things to stay this way"
but i was absorbed by
the gentleness of your hand
the depth of your eyes
the softness of your skin

and so the next morning
i should not be surprised it was simply a
heat-of-the-moment
thing

*

i take long drives at dusk
and i am haunted by
the juggling of theories between my thoughts

and i think about
the boy who left me,
the boy who won't take me,
and the boy who needs me

and my heart cries while
my brain tries to talk her out of it

but reality is that i'm lost
(and i need something)

i admire the sunset because i don't care
if it's cliché;
i like the way orange clouds drip onto
purple sky

and i think:
i'd like to meet god,
he is the most wonderful painter

*

i think you
are a work of art
more precious than a
matisse or monet

i think every measurement on you
is perfect,
it is truly divine craftsmanship

it is the type of beauty
that cannot be captured,
only experienced

and instead of trying to
map out your blue prints
i will say that
i would trade a van gogh
for you any day