toxic hippie emissions

there's something in your hair. yes, there.
looks like a crayon, smells like wet puppy.

forget what i said before he shouts. like i ever could she replies almost in tears now.

first, second, third, that's what the forest is for. sometimes they come out she argues.

not tonight i reply.

no one knows except the both of us

nevermind; it wasn't
all so bad as we
thought it would be


was it?

looking at you across a thousand unsaid words
my heart aching
eyes drinking the electricity of your glare
and how quickly will i forget
when you are gone?

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anyway, i love you.

the misty highlights in his eyes
that smile that seems to find its most comfortable resting place across his lips
the way his voice drops to a whisper,
breath so warm across my cheek -
we're in love.

never gonna let you down. her face wet, hair rain-sticky and frizzled, dark against the whispery gray of the sky. she'd picked up that female habit of rubbing underneath her eyes when they got wet, just in case her mascara was running. it wasn't, but then she wasn't wearing any, and it was beside the point anyway. i remembered the way she ate those valentine's chocolates last year, unpeeling each one like undressing a lover, then slowly flattening the squares of foil and laying them gently on the stack of all the others. for how much time she seemed to take with each one, she went through two bags far too quickly. i try not to remember the sounds of her tiny body heaving, her face inches from the stale water, and the acrid smell that never quite left that bathroom.

never gonna let you down. what she said. you heard me i shot back. i didn't turn my head. just kept walking. couldn't let her see me crying.

which was stupid, because it was raining anyway.

they said she's dying, the death of strawberry soda and angelkissed silences.
i wish i could make myself care enough to cry or something. it seems appropriate.

don't you think?