sunday it rained:

I wrote your name 
on the left wall 
in the back of my closet 

In my notebook 
with all the pages torn out 
I wrote: 

I miss you 
54 times 

and 

Im definitely missing 
a bone in my wrist 

and 

birds have wings but 
I do not 

and 

pick up milk 
before 5 

and 

most people are not made of 
grass and something in between 
the rose beds 

and 

sometimes I breath in 
all day 
before breathing out and when I do my mind 
fillsupwithbeautyanddangerandIamafraid 

I am definitely made of the sun 
because the spot where my heart should be feels 
too big for my chest and is tearing me to 
pieces 

and I hope you learn 
that the most beautiful thing you can do is feel 

I fell in love 
with the face you made 
when you got excited 

and the way your hands moved 
too fast when they tied your shoes 

and the breath you take 
before you laugh 

and the crease between 
you eyebrows when 
my breath falls too short 

I dropped my notebook
in a mud puddle 

before running back to pick it up 
because I felt guilty 
and littering has a $200 fine