Come with  me
and I'll show you a world of possibilities
I'll just take off your glasses
and the let the sun kiss your eyes
refreshing your sight

Come with
and I'll mend your heart
with honey to sweeten each crack
changing your hatred to sweet nostalgia

Come with me
and I'll paint a pure reflection
that'll amplify your imperfections
that'll highlight the flaws
and portray a new vision of beauty

Come with me
and I'll hold your hand
through the world that you already abhor

Come with me
and we will pin the clouds to our
feet and float weightlessly
carelessly

Come with me
and we'll discover a planet
where society has not yet tarnished
all forms of cliche

Come with me
and we'll write novels
on city walls
narrating stories that will bring people together
or tear them apart

Come with me
and we'll show them
how beautiful it is to dance
with no wrongs or rights
just mere human elation

Come with me and
we will hop from one star
to the other, exploring each
bright possibility

Come with me
and I'll show you
what you don't see

come
with
me

Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back?
But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being.

But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways.

And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made.
What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me?
Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'"
Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store.
Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels.
It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words.
Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about.
They believe in it, they worship it.
As if it actually exists in an alternate universe.
The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more.
It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it.
And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept.

It's so fake, it's almost real.

Maybe I've seen the Notebook too many times, but the concept of 'If You're A Bird, I'm A Bird' keeps growing exceedingly less absurd.
And ever since I saw A Walk to Remember I've always wanted to name a star after you so there would be two of you, and so I wouldn't have to share the original with the world.
Or was it so you could see the light in you that I see everyday and not only at night?
Alas, I can't seem to remember, but I'm certain it was both.
I've never been in a warzone outisde of my own life, but you've saved me from more harm than any bomb or rifle could inflict so I am indeed The Lucky One.
Whether sitting in silence or drowning in chaotic clamor I remember the first time you sang to me, and I recall my smiling like a fool
Let it be known that albeit I'm not actively seeking death, if it may find me I hope for that to be my Last Song.
Oh, and my darling
let your suspicions now come to light,
for  I indeed have always had an ulterior motive in loving you-
in you loving me.
That is for our love to create a Safe Haven to return to when the world has seemed to drain us of the hope we awoke with.
And yes my love,
I indeed am a bird if that is what you are as well,
but in tandem do I vow to be your Guardian on this Walk to Remember through This Bending Road of life.

A rainy day,
an acoustic guitar,
a notebook,
a studio apartment overlooking the city.
"I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes."
I don't remember the name of the poet who wrote that
but it couldn't describe my life
any more accurately.
I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes.
I want to measure my happiness
in rainy days and soft kisses,
poetry,
I want to measure my recovery
in full meals and trash bags full of razors,
in tears shed by my eyes
instead of my skin.
I want to measure my free time
in independent movies
and 4 different kinds of music-
indie,
hard rock,
classic rock,
and pop-punk.
I want to measure my infinities
in starry night skies,
galaxies, constellations,
physics books I got in middle school
and his eyes,
his smile.
I want to measure my victories
in minutes without smoking
and my losses
in blaring headphones
and labyrinths of white smoke.
I want to measure my work ethic
in sick days
and missed bills.
I want to measure my heart
in belly dancing
and ***** converse,
in beanies
and minutes spend holding him.
I want to measure my life
in written chapters
and highlighted smiles
in blue Christmas lights
and TV show references,
in my favourite movies and novels and songs
and my dependence on myself,
in cans of Peace Tea
and Pringles
and not regretting eating,
in pens that help the words flow
and laughs,
smiles,
hugs,
kisses,
and hope that in the future
things will be alright...
More alright than they are now.

Turn me over like your favourite novel.
Run your fingers along my spine.
Bite your lip at your favourite parts
Then read between my lines.