People tend to drain my bones
Take out the things that make me pick dandelions and stare through coffee shop windows
They make me glance a little longer in the mirror
Put eyeliner in my backpack instead of my imagination
I wear most of their words like a scratchy winter jacket
And I stuff them into my pockets like the spare change I never end up using
Then you came in
In a somehow infinite way
You replenished my skin
With sunny days, old fashioned music and happy poems about your grin
You filled my mason jar of everything I think I am with reckless ambitions
And completely unheard of jokes that make even the tips of my toes laugh
Not everyone drains you, I suppose
But everyone most definitely does not have the ability to turn your freckles
into every planet in the night sky
Them up with car ride sing alongs and conversations about the petals on lily flowers
You made all the plain things exciting
And now I think the tree tops and
Trash cans at the end of driveways
Are fascinating
Almost as much as you