Anchors Aweigh.

I’m the box on the top shelf. The ring out of reach. The song never sung and the sun-ripened peach. I’m the one who won’t listen when you aren’t at home I’m the voice that you hear when you hang up the phone. I’m the first spark of a lighter the last second of the kiss I’m the end of your thought and the smile you miss. I try to be someone new each and every day But the one thing I’ll never be is your lady in gray.  

I guess sometimes I don’t understand. I don’t know why I’m not thin, or why I’m not pretty. I don’t know why I feel alone with you sometimes or why sometimes I feel like being nothing at all. I guess I don’t always get it right, I sometimes hear the rain and feel like water, I sometimes look at your smile and feel on fire, I sometimes wonder if years from now, you’ll see me as someone else. Or maybe you see it now, I don’t know. Sometimes I just don’t understand that there isn’t a way for us to be friends anymore. Because sometimes I am all dressed up, and no where to go. Sometimes I’m your center of attention and sometimes I’m a footnote in your life. 

Green and Blue, lights and cars. I see how you are like a child on Christmas Day everyday. You would never be mine, but you’re my best friend. You are funny, honest, beautiful, even when you don’t think so. I am mean to you and yet you love me. Your lights guide me home, and you’re everything that I know he doesn’t like. I love you New York.   Even though you break my heart. 

Dear Winter, You are the worst season, and don’t tell me you’re misunderstood. You are not a misfit, you are a terror. You freeze our fingers and frost our cars, and most of the time you leave shit all over the place like an untamed room mate. I hate you, do you know that? But I still have love for you, and I still like the occassional flurry. I like the snowflakes in the tips of my hair and I like the way that every time I step outside you never let me down. Love, Amy

the color of your eyes when you see me in a white silk dress (but I have no silk dress anymore) the way my car used to look (before I scraped the curb) that first kiss (but I still get close to it, every time) the smell of your hair (fresh out of the shower) the backseat of your old Jeep (we really should get another) marching band (you miss my mini skirt) the smell of the earth (I want you to smell it too) that dimple in your cheek (please never lose it) but most of all, I love the way you say good morning (and the way you never say good bye) 

I laid down in the ocean and it tasted like the rim of a martini, and I just laid there and saw the sky full of signs and airplanes and blue. And I thought that if I could just be like this forever, that I would be happy. Maybe the ocean would take me this way, and that way and I’d be like a lost vessel a unnamed island or a goddess. Maybe I’d be just a bit more alive. Sometimes I feel like a quarter in a mud puddle or a boat in a harbor with no place to dock.