if I could, I would draw the back of every

time she turned away from me - her hair and how it met the base of the skull and repelled

downward or climbed back up, she'd cut it short and then 

watch it grow,            

if I could, I would re-trace her ears and marvel at how the skin joined in perfect harmony behind them.

if I could, I would have had her a million times more in between my fingers, running them through her -

every "every" I have and had and will have. 

i am comforted in my own - just like ice melts, only not so
warm, just warm enough. lay like a leaf in the sun, holding up lace, so that
when i lower it the pattern will be burned across my face, intricate enough
so that people will have to lean inclose
to see

i am forever changing, like no mona lisa because
"bullets pass through me and I keep moooooooving"
only the bullets never reach me - i know i'm dreaming when i'm
dreaming.

today, someone told me I don't smile very much. 

and I think I'm okay with that. 

it's almost like

you know how to notice things, but
you don't know how to use that information to your advantage.






I wish you did, sometimes.

maybe it's gone
and maybe it's been replaced by
other things. maybe I'll find it
curled under the desk, after quite a time
without it

and maybe it's gone