Too often I cloud up the meaning of you.
It's all you, God...

I can't even write with music of my own choosing,
because there is a persistance surrounding my...

A maroon sweater clings to me, but my legs
stick out, not like twigs, like passing lanes...

Throw words at me...
Don't fret, for I won't rip and snarl at them...

Your fingertips tiptoe up my spine,
inviting me to fall under your spell...

You are - scent, a world with roulettes of mists...
sweetness but hold mysteries...

It's not everyday you get to see, out of the...
a full arch rainbow with all of its colors warming...

We were never childhood friends, living down the
country roads where we could have thrown stones...

They wore satin robes, a heart protected by
intangible armor...

Touring the city
at a quarter to eleven...

An owl hooted belligerently
during the night, throwing me...

It's simply nerves you say...
but there's still three more summers...