You see, I never set out to open my eyes

and see yours staring back at them but my lids

are like a shutter and click you were

there, in my dreams. You sung to me a lovesong

so sweet, but it's no pheonix. It's fading now and

the sun is red each day when I

wake up and try to put my feet on the ground

I walk to school and there you are. I'm no artist

but I'd like to sketch your esssence when you

don't even know I'm watching you. It sounds

strange but that's what love is, one big wonderful

oddity. I'n trying to remember it when it was

white, like sugar-snow before it hits the ground and it

reaches your tongue. But now everything is slush

lined up on the sidewalk. It's an eyesore, it's

a heartache. And your heart beats like music when

I lay my head on your chest, which by the way is nothing

more than a chance to hear that music beneath

your bones and breathe in that scent. It weakens me

all over but now it's peeling like grapes in the sun, wrinkling

and fading like yellowing pages in a book. Like a

diary where tears fall from my eyes and hit the page

and mix with ink. It's like my blood, that ink. It will always

be there for me, even when you don't pick up the phone and

call. Even when you act like my hand is not touching

you. Even when you turn something sweet into something

sarcastic, and we both laugh but inside I'm wishing that you'dd

take me and just kiss me. Never mind all the BS, just tilt your chin towards my

lips and meet them. They'll laugh together and maybe, finally, I'll smile.

And then my eyes will open and maybe, if I'm lucky, you'll be looking back.