Red Wine, Headaches, Mythology.

C'mon summer, shine a little more light on me.  Streaking through the slatted window panes across your back, illuminating tiny pieces of you that I love.  Striping against the contrasting lightness of your skin, I think I like both shades of you though.  You look real pretty when you smile, smile more for me would'ja?  It's like the sun is discovering all these parts of you that I never could on my own, and for some reason that makes me want to cry until I run out of reasons to be emotional and finally can't do this for you anymore.  Oh but stop being so sentimental, it was just a walk around the park, where's the harm in that?  Maybe that park was a forest and those feet were trees and those shoes were a trunk and something inside me grew to be a part of these organisms and I can't pull myself away, not now, not yet.  You should find it so easy to give up on me, you won't let yourself be rooted in the deep despair that I find comfort in and that's okay, I'll stay here awhile, alone, just the way it was intended. 

I suppose I could keep writing silly little sonnets about love and disease and being carefree with you, and you being upset with me, and us being whatever we pleased together or separate, or place based beliefs.  Shit you don't know me so well, not as well as you think you do at least.  I remember winter afternoons, sitting in a colder than necessary cafe waiting on you to meet me there and tell me everything would be 'just alright.'  What kind of romance is just alright?  Tell me you want to fly me to Argentina and snorkel and see all this shit together and take pictures and look stupid and be free and feel aware and release our deepest inhibitions and please the little ghosts that hide inside of both of us.  That's pretty, I like that, be my poetry please.  I mean really why wouldn't you want to?  You're the sweetest damn example of fatal flaws I've ever seen.

Toro Y Moi - Causes of This (Album)