tilting planet

Do you find it silly that
I order chocolate milk instead of wine?
When we go out fine-dining,
I get all the sweet things,
Nothing a true woman would buy.
I wear your sweater in my sleep,
So your smell translates into my dreams.
My hands are small next to yours,
And I feel so much like a kid
When I say 'I love you, I love you'
In the darkness of tangled legs.
Worries run in and out,
Cuckoo, cuckoo,
Like a clock,
But I disregard the logic of my concern.
Think think think, it's all I do,
And when I stare off into the silence,
And you ask
What's on your mind,
I can never answer you quite honestly—
You see, I have to figure out what's up there,
In between my ears,
Tumbling around in the cosmic dome of bone,
Before I can show anything to you.
You like my silly dresses, and their bright patterned folds;
I like when you reach underneath, to find nothing but
yearning and trembling stars,
the fantasy of a girl's own tilting planet.
What will the whim of love decide?
I try to sing inside this un-reality,
Only to see birds trickle from my parted lips.