Blue eyes.

You never said this was going to be easy
You said it would be hard
Hard, hard as stone
Hard as the wall we crash into
None of this makes sense
But we still feel the weight
Of the building blocks we glue together
That tear us apart
But we think
We speak with our minds
We toss our words across the bricks
And catch them like fireflies in our fingers
We hold them gently
And with love against our hearts
Our fireflies light up
And we see sparkles in each other's eyes
And we feel the connection, the bond, the love
Seeping through the cracks
We feel our hands
We feel our love.

One of the brightest stars.

Floating like drifting
Drifting away further
We look to them
And they pass us by
Headed toward the sky
We scream and shout
But they never turn around
Wandering toward beauty
Toward heavenly blue
But never faith
Sketched in my face
Left with a trace
A thin line
What seems real to them
Just a fantastic mirage
Worth the fall
At least for their naïve ears
We look to them with wet eyes
But they just pass us by.

King of the rodeo.

My hair falls down from my bun. It falls from my bun and it is becoming messed up, but this time I do not care, I do not mind. I am fine and I am happy. Do you hear that? Do you?

I am happy.

Because the hair falls out of its place atop my head from all the movement, all the dancing. The music has never felt so loud, so amazing, so intense, so relaxing, so beautiful. So wondrous. So dangerous, so calm, so earthlike and real and all those mushy gushy things. The music, at last, is me, as I am it.

I shake my head as I dance as I laugh and laugh and laugh. I know I am supposed to be doing my biology homework, because my big, thick green-covered book is in front of me on the desk, but that does not matter as it has always, always mattered in the past, too, too much. It's there now and there always and I will get to it, but now, I must dance.

I shake my head as I dance as I laugh and laugh and laugh. I know my brother is at his desk right next to me. I know he can see. I know he can hear. I know he can witness my sillyness and wonderful, childlike, simple play that seems just too stupid to be. He has not known me as she has not known me as they have not known me to be like this. Not for months, not for years, not since he broke my heart and the other left.

But I listen here and now and always and in my sleep, I listen and listen to the songs he sings for me with words of passion and joyful bliss. I feel my mind spinning in circles of repitition, but that just makes me giggle so, so much, and laugh and sign and dance. Love and be loved.

I am finally happy and I finally know it. The light is dim and it feels cool and warm and never too hot and suddenly, suddenly, suddenly, everything is just exactly right, just exactly perfect. I am king of the rodeo, king of my rodeo. Such a confident, lovely rodeo with such laughter and hugging and warmth so cool that it tingles my toes. The closeness and loving talk makes me never want to leave, never never never never. I will never leave this rodeo, my rodeo; king of my rodeo.

And I hear her words, I hear them now. They are soft and they are sweet and they are so harmonious and suddenly, suddenly, suddenly, my ears will hear no other noise; the music and her words, those words, her loving words.

And I know that this is not the end. Nothing is the end.

Disappear.

Disappear
Before my hands reach for you
And I discover you’re not really there
Disappear
Into the air
Make the night so thin
So black again
Disappear
Into the life you lead
I’ll sink into mine with pieces too broken to function
Disappear before I say another word
Before you make yourself real
Before you let me feel
Hold me now, hold me tonight
Disappear after one touch
Let me have that much
Kiss me once, my dear
And then disappear.

Wisemen.

The song starts as it always does. As do the rest. We know who it is. We know the style. But much more, we know the song.

Maybe it does not have to start at number one. Maybe the album can begin at the end or in the middle. We will sure let it, and we know that. We pick up where we leave off, and leave off where we pick up, and pick up all over again. Like a cycle. Like a cycle I know well, I hear well, I see well. Like a cycle that is my air. And I hope you know that I need this air to breathe. To live.

The inside of your car is a bit dirty. Maybe not that dirty, but there's dust on the dashboard. But I love that. I love the dust. It is a beautiful part of you.

I know that this song in particular is not our song, the song we will dance to. Maybe it is significant to neither of us. Maybe we are just kidding ourselves. But I know I love it, and I know I need it. I wonder what you're thinking and I wish I could match it up with my mind, since we are so alike in so many ways.

The sound comes through the stereo speakers and you turn it up loud. My legs are crossed on the passenger seat. My memory does not let me look at my appearance, just yours. Only yours. Always yours.

We sing along because we know the lyrics; ah, we know them well. This song means you to me, and I hope it does the same to you. It becomes reversed throughout the next few months--in retrospect, that is. The sunrise. The sunrise will fade, but will not come back again.

High.

Low now. Low? Everything opposite of happy and joyful and fun and sweet and good. I hear it now, the lyrics. I hear the words beg for that back, for what they had, what we had. We were the only two, and we were there.

But we're not.

This is not your car, and the only dust where I am is dirty dust, a rotting kind of dust. There is nothing of you here. No car. No music. No stereo. No smile. No insight. No love.

Not yours anyway.

But I need it. Can't you see that I need it? I need you and that silver car. I need to be in the front seat, sitting cross-legged, talking to you through our voices that sing, hearing the sound of our hearts beating in the speakers. The notes and keys. The sound. The words. The love.

I cannot live without you. You took it, just like that. Away from me. Gone.


And now it's hard to believe you remember me.


I will always be in the passenger seat of that car, listening to our music, with you. Forever.

Hands On Deck.

I don't really know what to say to you. I don't really know how to talk to you. Have I ever known? Have I forgotten?

We say goodbye just after we say hello, and it makes me wonder if there was anything in between. Maybe our voices are machines. I do not like the way they operate.

"Please try again later," it says, just like a Magic Eight Ball. "Please try again later," but I know I won't.

Because I don't know how to talk to you. Every word every time is just like another breath, just like another step. The sneakers are making my toes hurt.

And I wonder if the pointless steps will ever lead me somewhere worth going, some place of my heart's destination. I close my eyes and dream about my shoes leading me through the dirt scattered around your house.

The phone rings and I answer it. And I answer it and I know that we will say goodbye. And we say goodbye just after we say hello.

And I wonder if there was ever anything in between.

Thnks Fr Th Mmrs.

Thanks for the memories.

-Fall Out Boy




I remember. It has been six months, but I remember. Just like it was yesterday. Like it was today, and I am still living this. Do you remember? Do you remember and think of these things that invade my mind? Do you?

Here we sit and I am in history and you are sitting behind me. I am very aware that you are sitting behind me. I am very aware of the fact that you can see me. You can see the back of my head, and you can see my hair, and you can see the side of my face, and you can see the expressions I make. You can see the way I hold my body in my seat, and the way I flick my pen down hard on my paper, and the way I doodle on my history notes. Can you see that I am nervous?

Because I am. I am nervous.

Sometimes I look back at you. It is a moment when it is all very obvious, and I know that, but I cannot help myself, I cannot stop myself from glancing backwards, because I know that you're there. I know you're watching me.

Sometimes I see it in my eyes. Sometimes you are a mirror and I stare into it and see a reflection of what I feel. Sometimes I see it in your eyes.

I know you remember.

It was the last day of freshman year at school. Early June, and it really did feel like it. I was tired that morning and did not want to go to school, because I knew I didn't have to. No one was making me, no one cared. But I had promised you.

I had promised you.

So I woke myself up at early early A.M. I stumbled out to my brother's beat up Chevy Blazer and we drove to school in silence, though I was playing my iPod. I was listening to Kings Of Leon, and I brought my red Gucci purse. I was wearing my brand new black dress and silver flip-flops that were already worn down from previous months.

I waited for fifteen minutes for you to arrive, and when you did, I was not even sure why I was there. But I was, and that was all I knew. I was there, and you were there.

We were there.

You led me down to the field, which I did not know as well as you did. You led me into the grass, and I followed you into the grass. My feet were getting wet because the huge, thick lawn had not been recently mowed, and weeds tangled up to my ankles. It was eight-thirty in the morning, and the air was still wet with dew. It felt nice, but had effected my feet with squishy wetness. My shoes squeaked as we walked, and I know that I blushed because I was embarrassed.

As we walked, you held my hand. It was strange, but only strange to me because it was not strange. I liked it, though I was scared, and I knew it right then. Then, in that moment when you held my hand and we walked and my feet were wet and no one was at school, I knew that I loved you. I knew then and every day before that and every day after that.

That day was too long because it was too short, much, much too short. My mind knows it well by now. I recount and I replay, and I replay and I recount, because I know that I simply cannot let this go. It is hard and I convince myself with others that I am stronger that stone, and perhaps I am right. Maybe I am stone....

It was an hour and a half before my mom would be pulling up to the parking lot, and we walked to 7-11, just because we did and we wanted to. You bought me a soda that was much too big, because I was not paying attention and grabbed the one that was not the one I wanted. I could not see the cans of soda behind the glass doors, because all I could see were the flitters of butterfly wings scraping against my side. I hated it, and I loved it, and I was blind.

You bought me Reeces Pieces. I ate half of them as we were riding in the car to drop you off at your house. I knew even then that I would be spending most of my summer there. I knew even then. When I got home, it took me an hour just to eat the rest of the candy, because I was much too nervous. You should have known me, and you should have known what I was like, and you should have known why.

You should have known.

Because I knew. I knew.