Friday, July 27, 2007


it's the smallest
of gestures that keep me interested,
the tiny things for which i look up.

a blue dress passing my eye, a smile
owning a room, a single ring

out of a bracelet
composed of many falling, too

cheap to clasp back on.

so you fashion it for me
into my very favorite of clich├ęs.

the last of which who still
stands for something:

the shape of a heart.

bringing flirtations
to a recognizable halt, or enough
at least, to re-examine.

another level of how cute we are.
perhaps a small step forward?

i keep wanting to go back, and
ask you out again.

after a thousand tiny dates
of besides the point, under
the unfortunate pretense of simply

being friends.

it took away the edge, leaving assumption
and nervousness behind.

all things real
replaced pretend, so that

we might know each other

a single sarcastic comment
at a time, one tiny truth
to hide behind, a field

who mumbles softly
of wild flowers. knowing
of it's beauty, yet afraid

of what it could possibly mean.

i enjoying being here with you, yet
intend to something about it.

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