e. e. cummings

you said Is
there anything which
is dead or alive more beautiful
than my body,to have in your fingers
(trembling ever so little)?
                  Looking into
your eyes Nothing,i said,except the
air of spring smelling of never and forever.

....and through the lattice which moved as
if a hand is touched by a
hand(which
moved as though
fingers touch a girl's
breast,
lightly)
       Do you believe in always,the wind
said to the rain
I am too busy with
my flowers to believe,the rain answered

Empty spaces

"You say you're okay but I saw that look." Scrambling with my pens, lines and bubbles on this page I'm working on. I talk about the tip of that pen like it's the single damn thing I care about. It's crooked just like my smile. So what is it really? "The spaces, the gaps, the pages you skip. What are they for?"
"People disappoint. I'm saving up these pages for the few ones that don't." Whatever that means. Empty spaces everywhere. Here, there, in every single nook and corner, and where you are, too.

"It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to."

It's still hot even though I just took a shower. I have two lab reports to write tonight. I'm heading to the family room after this to watch Game 2 of the finals. Of course I'll be multi-tasking. Mom, sister, and dog are checking out houses and when they get home, we're probably going out to eat. Another week coming up. My current dashboard looks less cluttered. I like it this way.