9 Voicemails.

85 emails

Just to let you know why I posted all those things: it’s because I’ve gotten rid of them. And I’m only explaining because I’ve counted 85 separately subjected emails that I’ve kept (can’t count the number we’ve had) with silly pictures, songs, articles, and conversations and such. And I’ll be deleting them. I’m keeping this all here because I think it’s a shame to throw away an entire catalog of memories no matter the circumstance. But I don’t want the emails. And I don’t care to post every single email I have. I figure the number is good enough. Eighty-Five.

Edit: 96.

20 words

Rang tang cheekee cheekee swap
water melancholy flower
There’s not enough words to say
How much I

My phone call:

I really can’t talk
It’s upsetting indeed
So I’ll keep it simply
Short and sweet
I have no idea
What you did today
But whatever it was
I have this to say
You’re beautiful in every way
I hope you had a perfect day
Whatever it was what made you smile
I hope it sticks around a while
I hope everything went your way
And that it will every day
If I could make you smile now
Well you’ll just have to tell me how
I’m very lucky Life went my way
Because you were mine this lovely day
I don’t know much about tomorrow…
But that’s okay.

Anne’s response:

Sir, thank you for the lovely call;
I wasn’t expecting that at all.
Such clever words bound into place..
Who knew how fast my heart could race?
You always seem to make my day.
I’ve smiled about a thousand ways.
Get some sleep, you need the rest
To care for the heart that’s in your chest.
Oh be gentle, it’s mine, you see.
Be sure to handle carefully.
It’s all yours now, call it your own,
For I hope yours has found a home
Between my outstretched arms. My dear,
Would you mind if I kept it here?
Since I now must bid adieu,
I do present my poem to you.

Every single dream I dream I dream to dream of thee
It’s redundantly spectacularly endlessly my dream
To dream a dream of dreamers just falling helplessly
In dreams of thee I hope you see all that we’ve ever dreamed
You see I dream of twiddle dum I’ve dreamt of twiddle dee
But every single dream I dream I dream to dream of thee


Lately the crickets are out and about
Chirping and burping and twirping about
They say for each note that a cricket performs
In a minute, that is, it’ll tell you how warm
That the night really is, really is hot indeed
Each chirp and each burp shows the night’s true degree

And I’ve always wondered and wanted to know
Just what else these chirpy twerps know
I bet if you hold them across from your chest
They’ll listen quite close before they can guess
How fast your heart is going right then
How slow or how fast it’s going right then

I wish I could show you but I’d be too shy
When you would hear that my heart beat would rise
I’d blush and giggle and say “Oh this one’s broke”
And pretend like he was for some silly joke
But I can’t pretend after 82
That’s too many cricket’s to go “Whoops this one too!”

I wish I could show you but you mustn’t know
That the beat always rises when your smile glows
I’d bring you a cricket, if I wasn’t shy
He’d write you a tune of my hearts sweet delight

An attempted song

Laura heals in a way I can’t explain to you
And it feels like an angel has molded my heart into
Something that I want to be its something that’s calling my name
And darling I know it’s just a phase but I can hope otherwise

I know its not just me
I know what you need
I know all the answers
I know how to please

Laura is just the name for something more wonderful
See it’s only my girl That makes life so beautiful
And something that’s worth every minute she’s worth every second of time
And darlin I know it’s just a phase

But I know its not just me
I know what you need
I know all the answers
I know how to please
Please me

Fond Paintings

I could paint you a silhouette.
I could paint you: a silhouette.
I could paint us as a silhouette.
But in my fondest paintings it looks more like an ink blot with two smiles.

Not that I have, but I could draw ink blots all day if you asked me to.

And on a sunny day, I fancy the idea that you and I could lay under a blanket and have our own orchestra of shadows.

Not a comforter. A blanket. You taught me the difference between the two. Somehow at 15 I didn’t know.

Somehow you seem to know a lot. It seems you know all the little things I don’t… Like you’re my other half.

"Like" because a simile is the only grammatically correct linguistic device capable of correctly portraying emotion.

Scratch that. Passion. Passion only matched by that of a duet. And that’s how I see it. Two harmonious notes struck into place. Interlocked in the utter beauty of companionship.


You’ll never admit it, but I see it like it is: a clever hypnosis slowly taking over every minute of conscious thought. You’ve already conquered subconscious and unconscious thought.

And I don’t know what the final trick of this hypnotism is… but I think I’m okay with it.

I’m okay with the simplicity of just saying me too. Or. You too.

I’m okay with the simplicity. Just the simple outline. Just the shadow. Just the silhouette.