on the envelope of a defunct birthday card

i can listen to the birds talk

i can read right through the whispers of nests of dust and see what i'm made of

i can feel the weight of the sun and imagine a bright heavy collision

i can smell the way life rots and i will never understand 

why you talk the way you do

and how is it that i will never be able to 

touch the water as graceful as you do

its too difficult to understand why the sun chose i

why are we staring at each other

now i am crying and now you are crying

and this is too weird

i can feel the pulse of every poet; relentless

i'm too cautious for my own taste

but hear this: i love you

i don't know why your aura is strong and mine is not

what does that weight cost to you

i am only thinking of someone

do the little ones know my tears

they smell the salty air and prepare to hunt me

am i food

please stop crying

its getting dark and i can't stay here- i should go

but please stop crying

this isnt funny, because i don't understand what you're saying

you aren't being fair.