treed. i am thinking you don't know how it feels to really feel. we are thinking you should see someone about those honest eyes, always giving you away. you are thinking things i am smiling and they close the door.

here are those little things you were looking for, i could not find that last piece, though.. i think the earth may have eaten it.

i am some days standing beside myself and others i do not know who you are (and is that because i have forgotten myself?) we are sitting and staring past eachother. i am not supposed to act like i do, i am sure of this. we are floating and we are gone.

you. i have kissed you while your eyes were closed and you were making little noises because dreamland. i love that you couldn't know that unless i told you. how you wake up and talk to me about things that don't make any sense at all and i smile and you go back to sleep and i just needed you to move your elbow a little. and your hairs stick straight up and to the side. and your eyes are wide and wild and fresh from some strange place inside your own head.

slowing down i notice how you are shakey sometimes, too, stopping i hold your fingers for a moment to notice how they are almost rough and full of music.

we can. i'll walk a little slower and i will smile a little more often and you will stop wondering if your next step will crush my little noggin. i can do that, you will notice how i need to know that you won't step on the little broken pieces when i am trying (and i will be trying).

i dream of little house boxes some days, and i think that i am not quite there yet, not ready. and you are right. things that started before us need to end before we can really think about beginnings. and we can take the time as long as it is ours.

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