The Taste of My Subconscious

When he said to me:

"If I don't see you in my dreams,

I will be sorely disappointed

in the taste of my subconsious,"

I knew he was my fucking muse,

my starry eyed lover.

Who I oggled over

like a ciggarette

or a Beatles album

that makes me think to myself:

"damn, I could listen to this track

for a thousand year."

Do I have to?

No,

But, I'd be damned if I didn't try,

Damned, if I didn't listen to it even after

it was scratched and skipped.

In this moment,

I wanted to etch his name

into every desk,

in every school,

in every country

so that,

every girl

could know that it is possible,

possible to find

the one

that still brings you butterflies

after a thousand years

and that those butterflies

will drift into your head space

and make you dream of the

billions of laughs

billions of memories

billions of happy tears

you would share with this person

if they would

accept your love forever.