may(be)

maybe I wear glasses because i can only see you when you're close

(you get so blurry when you disappear)

maybe this time is the last time I need to say

this is the last time.

maybe the games I play is my attempt to pass go

to collect one hundred dollars

(I spent all my money on you)

maybe I listen to rap music because I always wanted to be like my dad

(to not care)

maybe my foul looking arms will be washed clean

(by someone who does care)

maybe that look you gave me was meant for the me before I knew you

(before I knew anyone)

maybe I actually mean what I say.

(and by next May

I could just Be)

what's in a name?

welcome to the

happy ending?

(the crown)

la corona.

(but right now i don't care about that part)

i'll probably always have these ugly scars

standing in the light of your halo

(i got my angel now)

here comes the sun.

(part two) we can start to think of truces.

(part one) lets not say deuces.

i'm just tryna change the color on your mood ring

la mujer sin cabeza

what you said? she aint no diva.

somewhere far along this road he lost his soul

i ain't mad at you, kanye i love henny too

said he got a woman down the street

(the presupposition of a dialectical argument is)

that the participants,

even if they do not agree,

share at least some meanings and principles.

verb (to protect)

noun (gorilla)

adjectives (wack)

dear summer,

I fear that you may never miss me. I stumbled through you with eyes shut, hands out, heartbroken. I only called upon your company after dark, when I was feeling lazy (I ignored your reasonably small capacity for bartenders and bullshit). I used your temporary presence to condone my own destruction. I said I loved you, but I was thinking of the snow. And yet you remained, fingers crossed. Hoping that my many faults would eventually lead me to discover what I’m supposed to know already. You showed me your ocean (bragging all the while) then patiently waited for me to get my hair wet. I think I saw you dancing in the dark when you thought everyone had gone to sleep. My legs grew frail from sitting for too long and always attempting to run away (after it became too late). Did you see me on that mountain, summer? I was hiding in the heat, silenced by the enormous and impossible weight of my past. You were there, no shoes, only thick skin to protect you from my wrath. Saying thank you would never suffice. Saying sorry has become too easy. Our back and fourth has become more laborious than it once was (blame it on the heat). If you let go first, I promise not to cry and resist like all those other times. I have learned to walk away silently. Maybe in a year you will learn to follow.

and hoping,