I
like
having
you
in
every
way
possible
like
a
meat
poem

he
said
she's
morbid
but
she
might
just
be
a
woman
who
loves
too
much

now
it's
the
same
old
song
sweet
dreams
of
you
every
night
I
go
through

thinking
of
some
people
I
knew
once
and
a
place
I
had
once
lived

witchy
woman
played
and
was
the
only
solace
amidst
his
cigar
smoke

the
taste
of
the
too
steeped
black
tea
the
smells
of
spring
dirt
a
nice
short
chat

he
said
how
does
your
body
feel
right
now
and
I
thought
kind
very
kind

as
the
couple
kissed
I
tried
imagining
what
their
kids
would
look
like

I
know
I've
told
you
this
before
dandelion
but
I
quite
like
you

the
moon's
coming
up
which
reminds
me
I'd
been
neglecting
some
poems

it's
never
the
full
moon
it's
the
waxing
crescent
the
waning
gibbous

it's
that
not
looking
looking
that
glassy
stare
into
the
wind
and
rain

we'll
kiss
grow
old
walk
around
light
months
will
fly
over
us
like
snowy
stars

-anna akhmatova

you
need
someone
to
kiss
you
right
now
and
hug
you
'til
you
fall
asleep

I'm
going
to
meditate
now
kitty
okay
so
don't
meow
at
me

I've
seen
black
rain
and
grey
rain
and
white
rain
and
the
occassional
blue
rain

I
need
to
have
a
bad
dream
I
wanna
be
scared
tonight
where's
your
beard

he
smiled
big
with
his
two
missing
teeth
and
then
slowly
brushed
back
his
hair

oh
the
crying
game
and
how
I
love
to
play
those
games
where
I'm
crying

I
said
sweet
things
to
him
that
I
had
rehearsed
in
my
head
beforehand

I'm
surprised
when
the
winter
flowers
come
up
and
they
come
up
every
year

drums
keep
poundin
a
rhythm
to
the
brain
she
said
I
got
you
babe
he
said

I
keep
the
voicemail
from
you
and
my
poem
you
wrote
on
forever

just
some
land
with
flowers
and
some
trees
on
it
somewhere
in
the
world

I
sat
by
the
pond
and
wrote
a
poem
about
the
beautiful
day

I
listen
I
watch
I
feel
I
ponder
and
then
I
write
about
it

I
should've
had
the
coffee
to
go
'cause
I
got
stuck
behind
the
train

he
said
the
sky
looks
really
pretty
and
it
did
look
really
pretty

gulls
pecked
at
the
school
yard
a
dog
barked
into
the
street
an
old
man
slept

I 

was 

a 

'55 

chevy 

a 

desert 

highway 

a 

billowing 

skirt

I
saw
some
flowers
pushing
up
from
the
ground
and
knew
that
spring
was
close

and
then
I
had
fallen
from
my
high
tower
crushed
and
full
of
tears

it's
like
driving
with
the
windows
down
on
a
hot
sunny
summer
day

it's
that
time
of
day
where
I
draw
the
curtains
and
close
all
the
blinds