threeinchestall

I was thinking that I needed a new plaid shirt, and then I looked in my closet. And then I realized, all my clothes are on the floor. Along with three bags of Starbursts tossed everywhere.
A mess, is what I would call it. However, he calls it a wonderful surprise for me. (<3)


These things come to me with the weather, and I drive and park and turn off the engine. The oldies are still playing, and the the wind is tapping the window, and the sudden silent after the hum of the car makes it all fall into place. All the adjectives come rushing back.

This age. Four months away from two decades. It makes me wonder if it's real. I reach out to touch your face and you are really there and I begin to believe it. Please don't take it away from me yet. Or please, ever. It's all turning out so well. It's all boiling, finally. I'd rather sleep there when I can't sleep under my covers.
The roads carry me inches closer and inches further, although we don't know because we cannot see, we can only feel it and guess and hope that maybe driving home from work means I'm closer to where you are sleeping. The sun is setting and my mind is opening and I hope yours is too. I know yours is too.
 
Sometimes the words that bounce around in my mouth never find volume. Or clarity. But they are living, like ameboes, single thought, single purpose, single meaning. No games. No double edged sword floats in my mouth, taking the place of my tongue. And I hope you don't think my silence is my doubtful way of coming off as dull. Because, it isn't. I'm just blending. Like my pale skin blends to the white washed walls. And my grey eyes to my grey shirt.
 
So far, the neon lights just bounce around my hair, leaving it breathless, full of shine and mischief. And the car-- when it accelerates, I can feel my stomach crawl up my throat, not in nausea, but in pure excited adrenaline. While we're speeding down the highways and dirt roads, just flying past everything I never dreamed possible, he looks at me and just laughs. Because my eyes get all crinkly when I smile. And he knows he's the reason I laugh. And the reason I love. And another road. There were no lights, other than fire and the moon. His head leaned across the car, and the lines around his eyes. Creases. That I love.
And I know you might read this, and, hey.
I want to remember.
And I want to tell you how I loved the song you wrote about your childhood.
"Shoot all of the bad guys down."
And I want you to know that I cried.
Also, when we were listening to that song in your car, and you asked "Can this be our song?"
Yeah, I love that. I can't ever forget that, ever. Ever.






In my grey shirt in my white home, and my kaleidascope heart. Shifty and loving.