Too.

Your eyes,
They could be mine.
They could be anyone's, really.
But they're yours.
The minutes and hours, they tick by -
One day closer,
One week closer
To what?
To February?
To next month or next year or
What?
For it all to end, and start all over again?
Brushing off into cartoon land,
Following a racetrack round and round...

Sometimes I don't recognize my own face in a mirror.
But I see it everywhere in a crowd.
Sometimes I see your face in my dreams,
In the water,
In clouds and grass and the part of a car that curves over the tire.
Every car.
Every word.
Your word-face crying over me,
Spilling letters and numbers from your eyes.
It's all just the words, anyway
The words and the while
The ghost and the gaslamp rooftop.
The words all fit together like puzzle-pieces and they keep me
Together.

I need to sing, you know.
I need to breathe and pray and throw myself like paint,
Beating my wings against my own glass windows
Maybe I unravel, a little sometimes.
Sometimes more, sometimes less.
But always at least a little.
Won't you walk in the park with me?
Won't you go with me,
Too?