twenty.

my life is a poem. the level of creativity that 

i am about to become

exposed to is going to be

amazing.

my plea. my prayer.

i need that natural medicine.

the taste of another

soul. the perfect dose of

human flesh

leaning against me.

pushing me forward

and holding me still

so i can feel again.

a HEART beat.

can we still be who we were 

who we are.

who we were when i met you

that day. you don't remember

the beginning. the fact that you

were the creator  of the love 

and

soundtrack of my summer.

the reason i danced. NOTHING 

will ever change the fact that 

harry harrison sang to

me for two years. sometimes

four times a week. our

close encounters "he's just

a crush". does he even know? 

I have no idea. he doesn't have time.