from vita

do I dare tell her that her eyes are an hazel tree’s trunk?
that her soul is light and arcadian, so pure and naive?
her voice is the sound of a babbling brook, and her mind …

her mind is lavender blue
such a color that even the late night sky
gets jealous because her
every thought is so
entrancing, so idyllic and melancholy.
the rain pours harder when I’m with her
the sun stays up late to paint a pinky cloud in appreciation of her laughter

to taste her lips
to run my fingers through her hair
down her neck
to trace the hollows of her delicate collar bone

her very presence unnerves me
i cannot help looking at her whole being shines with the pale glow of the moon

we raced down the street
dashing in spring air to watch “the longest and most charming love letter in literature”

when will I see her
whom i cannot turn from
i long
tomorrow and tomorrow is too far away

and if you and her are the same—and only she will know
i never seen violet, purple, lilac and thought solely of you
never been so flustered and enamored all at once

i spend an inordinate amount of time
just thinking of you

i am ridiculous
i am utterly infatuated
i would mock myself were i another person
alas it is i
tossed and whirled

i lament that you most likely do not care for me the way I do for you
ah well, if all is to fade
hear this


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