Toes
I am cold with three blankets on
There is frostbite gripping at my toes as I pull them in close
The first reminds me of the time the power went out
We all snuggled into your bed and your touch made me feel safe,
And nothing else
I remember the times you sang for me and the poems you wrote on my behalf,
My heart was so avaliable that I readily sang back
Now when the boy with the blonde hair and the cuts on his legs sings his soul for me the way you did
Alone in the parking lot
My clouded mind pours raindrops into my lap
Because your music is too loud in my head for me to sing my own
He wants to drive but I walk home alone
The second makes me see the time you walked around the house on christmas eve ringing sleigh bells to make us believe
How every year you bought us mittens and you wrapped them yourself
This year you sent a sweater
You and the blonde haired boy both sent letters my eyes will never read
They live inside a world that has only your words within
The third was mid july when you looked at her on midnight canyon road
Your song moved fasted down the valley than the sun could go to bed
But mostly I remember the way you looked at me,
in mid July.
Your eyes were even darker than I had anticipated
They cut me into revines for the rain to pour out until the storm could leave a desert
They pierced me deeper than the words that didn’t sound like songs anymore
I remember that the only songs you ever sang were for yourself
I remember that every poem was for you
Then I remember that my toes are cold
And I wonder if yours are too