Another 24th's.

I've got a story you aren't ready for and this juncture is a journey no one would want to hear about. Let alone read a poem. They just wanna know how you could have a conversation with butterflies in your doorway, what it feels like watching someone wearing a brown paper crown pick my "i miss you's" out of their teeth or like being at the site where someone tore a house down trying to prove that something stood there once. This is a story you aren't ready for yet you can pretend you know from the way you told the servant in your favorite restaurant that week that it was your birthday. You didn't come for the cake but you got it anyway. Everyone likes surprises, who doesn't? I used to have porcelain hands chanting death to the solipsist in the distance, until he's here and this time if you ask me about the hill I will choose to die it's all now on those green eyes. If I start to talk about this guy to you I swear you'll fall in love with his color and dysfunction and call it a Picasso and that you'll want to take him neatly in your pocket to your hometown because he's the guy that you want to tell your parents about. And when he kisses you I swear, I swear you'll forget your own name but you got nothing to worry about because he'll say baby it's fine I'd forever call you mine. The thoughts about calling a number off the bathroom wall, a tooth shattering in your mouth as you move to say hello. An axe in your hands or about to be. A guaranteed statue in the bay window with the palms against the glass. The laurels the adornment of whispers amplifying strange sounds in the head. You know I used to tell my friends my love is a camera shy, I lied. I had a dinner party with the demons and honestly who's even dare to let themselves to touch a lonely thing but he was there so beautifully standing in the gate of hell the way he danced to my chaos by a flash of orange across. I want you to know how does it feel to meet this guy like you just found a middlemist red in those places that people oftently forget, you'll watch the entire universe is wrapped up in his voice and everything grows quiet when he speaks, when he calls your name it sounds like a castle magic and chrysanthemums, consider an alternate hypothesis, consider this. A mist that descend from the hills to fill every nook. Every cranny. And when you ask about his mind, in the name of the lord, in the name of overused tropes like crimson rivers of liquid gold named after Gustav Klimt paints, like a pile of rocks in perfect arrangement that gently plays tracy chapman's fast car as the wind blows through them, like children donned in riot gear hacking through crystal spider webs. To whom it may concern, dear so and so, my dear, dear whoever. His mind is a meadow layered with soft shadows and warm light you'd forever love it yet so quietly you'll wait. He's beautiful, in every way. Like the ocean with blue-turquoise water that illuminated by the sun with gradient color in the horizon and blue shades and the breeze. You'd like to get your body paralyzed by his tremors when you see the veins that make their way up his arms, you'll start thinking about the gentle mathematics and html code of the wind blowing through his chestnut blonde hair. You'll tell him that he's perfect but dear, he hates the word perfect even you have nothing to describe him better more than so. Small cities life big town hearts. Distance becomes a housebroken dog but it is powerless and whilst you love, you are powerful. My heart cuts itself in the middle and counts the homes for him because I know for sure he'll reach my fingers so I'll get to feel his warmth the sun knows nothing about, we will talk about the lemonade swimming in sugar and tiny handmade sandwiches in the kitchen and every sunday morning he'll write me another songs with his tongue between my thighs about these sweet cupcakes that I made. For now in the middle of night we only talk about each version of the story. How I'd ask him to stay, asking him to stare at the maps. See, we could really make a country called let's make love and break things together and you should know by it that it is an island for him to tease me all night and my god I wouldn't mind if later he destroy me in life. Some people were not built for feeling, we both, not too far. Some people has kind of war in their heads excitedly snapping it from its delicate case like opening the dvd player and there it is. Right there. Like spite. The feeling after digging a splinter out, looking for the way where they can move past the story and the bottom of the lake for just a second. Some will look at the highway while take their cigarette out, some will sit right in front of the screen. You have to know there was a mockingbird singing from a fence at dawn that one day in the morning and there was a girl crying in her pink sundress. In the other world, a guy was closing his eyes when he crossed the road hoping that perhaps a car will hit him. A blessed accident. Innocent victims. A lover. Them. Us. Talking to the god of broken promises, god of rain, god of I told you so, god of craigslist god of tinder, I forgive the world because it has him in there. Know what he said, now I close my eyes so I could remember you better here. Someone says falling in love is like drowning and suddenly your feet can't touch the bottom. Suddenly it's hailing in your house. You reach down to hold one and the thing I'm sure of like I was born to brush the hair from out of his eyes while he's wrapping his lips around the last whiskey he drank. Somewhere in time we're having coffee while holding hands we draw up blueprints in our head about it it'd be beautiful just beautiful as our dreams are slow singing in the living room. It should be noted that girls don't always send letters to the future but I could see how all buildings seem to sag and the stars are doing that cliche thing where they talk quiet jet noise when I ran into his arms. Imagining the place that we will be living how I wanted to have a tiny cabin but he wanted more. But he always agree to live near the forest, "I'm not a city people, anyways". Natural gas and sulphur as we light a match and put our silver kettles on the stove. The sound of the beans grinding beneath the finger tips, having kicking horse coffee as it sits in the french press, putting our big wool sweaters that are thick like an old cedar tree smells like west coast rain, sap and smoke. Everyday, I'll wait him from work with dishes for lunch in a dining table, take off his tie and thing then start to undress for him I watch myself turn out to be a rose with wings cutting through my shoulders like feathered knives but dear he's beautiful and everything heals. I started to dream about tiny human running around the house after he asked what would happen after 8 years, 9 months later. How sweet it would be when she call him daddy /she/ (you want it to be a girl even if I wanted a boy but I'll let me give in since I love the name Scarlett that you suggested first) funny that in our loneliest cities we already talked about so many things yet we still have shitloads that await us how he always down to share sky picture board out with lots kisses of promise and fuck's sake, he makes me believe that there's always be an adventure even to those ones dead /dead/ lake. But in the end of all I want you to know that he isn't the guy that you would like to begin the story with, he's not easy to reach out like you started to feel a river of red and white lights splitting the darkness apart because once upon a riverbed I watched him trace his finger in the water like he believed in something. I have seen him picking at the edges of clothing even staring out the windows, that look on his face like he was waiting for something beautiful to happen around him. Lucky I was still there and saw the exploision myself. You could have heard for miles, even you, could've heard them. If only you were around it. If only you were still listening to his mind you'll watch all the mountains crumble. But I was the lucky one, was I. He's a big treasure and dear now you know, he isn't the guy that you would like to begin the story with because he's guy that you could begin the history with if you were craving for something that god damn hard.