Little Miss Something

I love you with the breath, the smiles and the tears of all my life.

The teen pregnancy rate has been cut in half since the 1950s. #ThisGeneration

It’s you and I, Sightseeing around the oldest town in Texas With it’s brick buildings That look like infants next to the ancient atoms in our skin. Holding hands through moss-covered alleyways, We are older than the cracked foundations and sullied windowpanes. There are words on our tongues that could make the Parthenon Feel young again. We are old on the inside, Where the last wheeze of a dying star Still echoes through the universe, masked by the sounds of our voice. . It’s you and I. I am in your mouth; I am curled up Next to your bones And they hum my name the way Gregorian monks sing of God. I wonder if they’ve always known me— If every cell in your body has just been waiting for me To come home. I tell them I am here now. I let my bones sing with your bones. We are the kind of harmonies that make the moon rise, at night. We are the reason the tide comes in. . It’s you and I. When they write of young lovers, They are writing about the way your body feels against mine, in the dark. Your mouth loved me better than any god. I was the altar you lay prostrate in front of; You were the confessional where my sins Grew tongues and learned to talk. . We are ancient, you and I. We are clumsy newborns with curious hands. We are the stars that caught fire in the cosmos Generations before the Earth pressed it’s molten clay together. Once—we were the youngest creatures to ever exist. Now, we are poets and landmines. We are volatile and reckless and in love.

things to do & see in nyc for under $30: