what does it mean?

I don’t know who he was.
But I was in a crowd of vivid faces. Yet, paid them no attention.
There was only one figure that I cared about.

I could stare at him and never bore.

He tugged at his hood as he would lean forward. At random his cheeks would cave in, as if he was showing off cheekbones, but he wouldn’t do it on purpose it was just his manner. He wore grown-up shoes; brown. And he never touched his hair.

It was black- his hair.
short, and curved with a slightly wet-looking effect, like it was almost dry but not;
he had a right side bang that hung in a half loop.

It attracted me the way it highlighted his nose; thin but not high in the air. He wore jeans but I was more drawn to his ring.
A silver polished plain one that he wore on his thumb.

He looked at me and then I woke up.

can we handful things

how can wrists be so rough
and fingers clasped in a hand so sure of vulnerability
at the now of the event,

if ever something that weak
hit reality- to the point of returning to it's weeded real,
if ever it untouched back into that distance,
the wrinkles at the bend of the finger would stop
accumulating

i am here as my finger runs up to your knuckle
softly we warm playful trails that start from the tip of the nail
and lead to the veins and bone attempting to scratch out of skin

help! i don't need somebody.

i have not written
much of anything

i think i am sick.


since i've been back
i've fallen
changed
with
my thought occupied


my mind still writes
but
i have not let it write

i will.

translate this for me, please

little goodbyes;
it's easier that way-
to not tell you i'd miss you.
it's so you'd stay a memory
it's all for the best

i really don't love you
but
how do i say
i don't love you
but
i love holding your hand

how do i say that i enjoy you liking me-
and that being what i love,
what i'd miss.

so when i say
my little goodbyes
with a hug
and a kiss
i will miss that

just that

a room with a view

a had a view
that could inspire
even the weakest of feelings

where the wild things are, where the sidewalk goes on

it has been a while
i've returned
but
it's as if my mind was elsewhere

where i was
is where i want to be

where i am now
i am coming to dread

if ever i get a to leave
i know where to run to

there is this place i know
where i've been


















how do
i
fly away home

when i have found a place i want to call home
but
a place that i am not ready to sacrifice for

dead as night...

as windows open
in summer heat

i keep doors shut;
the shadows scare me.

as streets get lit
in invisible black

i mumble into sleep;
i need someone to talk to

about
how
i’ve been chasing nothing into the heart of dark.