Rewrite

We are both aware of how

The story ends—

The prince leaves the fox,

And that’s all there is.

We’ve read it,

And loved it,

And held it in esteem—

Despite knowing the fact

That all things come to an end.

Through all of the late nights,

Both in transit and here,

We kept trying to define

What drew us so near.

Dancing to January,

And prancing through graveyards,

Lifting our voices

And drinking Hopelandic.

You asked how to tame me

And I didn’t answer—

But you made it happen,

Which both scared me and thrilled me.

There’s so much that’s happened

And so much held suspended,

I need all your fear as I

Navigate this ending.

I want this, I want you,

But not the way it has been.

We need something more

To remain more than friends.

I’ve loved you,

I’ve loved you,

And I’ve loved you

Some more.

But where did that get us?

To this impasse on the floor.

Wake yourself up

And be ready to fight me.

We’re not coming back to this

Place where we’re swaying.

We’ve both been good at

Sweating the small stuff,

But let’s not forget

What got us here in the first place.

You saw a wild fox,

And you wanted to tame her.

She resisted at first,

But then the changes were subtle.

You used to shout from your

Windows to the wind.

At the thought that this

Fox could be falling for you.

The fox loves the prince,

And the story unfolds,

But let’s look for a minute at the

Less often told.

The prince leaves the fox

After finally taming.

The fox is quite brave,

But can’t keep from wailing.

I have a question,

For my little prince.

Are we telling a story?

Or writing our own?

Do we let someone else

Write the end of this tale?

We must decide now

Whether to stay or to bail. 

Now This Here's the Introduction

It’s 1:30 AM,

And I can see your fingerprints

All over the inside of my skull.

It’s a jumble of Sushi dates

And awkward movie nights.

There’s a small corner with your listening smile—

You wore it out

Right in the center is our time

Spent on your couch.

Where we learned to find the right moment.

Twirling around the edges we have

Ice cream

&

Pie shakes

&

Long talks

&

Lipstick marks

&

Friendships

&

Books

&

Your inability to contact me.

Remember when you got jealous?

And I was still special?

Didn’t think so.

Me neither.

On the top is a big mixture of

Purple lipstick on your reluctant mouth

And music from a different time.

Your hands hardly left my body.

The bulk of the bottom

Consists of a blanket on my floor.

Picnics at night and

You talking about your dreams.

And our stargazing—

You saw shooting stars on the ceiling,

So of course I did too.

There’s a strand of twinkly lights

Wrapped around every word.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me before”

How could I ever forget that night?

And in the end, right at the heart of it,

The smallest box, is no box,

But a book.

Because I am the tame fox,

And at least I have the color of the wheat fields—

At least I have the color of the wheat fields