To a(ny) Butter moon Girl

It wouldn't appear so, but
you and I, we'd been on the same path.
I've 
crossed the same blue-black drops
of wintersmile trees, taken a left
'round the butter moon,
hanging, fooh-ed
in it's cheeks, laughing,
waited on my rubber toes
to watch the world
fog up. 
Like you, I've rested,
for a few hazy noons, at the feet of the
that tickly pond-grass,
tried my hands at some
bad poetry while
the sun hit the
slushy waters and turned
my insides into paper
roses
or dust,
I've wiped the same tangy
sweat
off my palms, re-
traced
the same red skin and
smiled
through a night
or two. No, no it wouldn't 
appear so,
anymore, now it wouldn't,
but I've shot the same 
butter moon, dared
it to bleed into
my heart.

Oh Oh and our leap of faith, the same
vacuum, the gravity, and
waltzing, 
you'd remember? I,
I
picked 
a slow motion
accident, true, yours, it
had your back, but 

you
and I, we'd been
on the same path, and
I,
understand, if






it couldn't appear
so.