Missing you comes in waves
and tonight I'm drowning,
weighted down by driftwood memories
and sinking with an anchored love.

I am the vessel,
your heart is the ocean;
may the waters become too strong
and swallow me whole.

I dont want to be everything.

I want to be your morning coffee,
the caffeine crashing through your veins;
the smell of thunderstorms in June,
flooding your lungs with early summer.

I want to be the song stuck in your head,
your favorite tshirt
and the same pillow you sleep with every night.

I dont want to be everything,
but I want to be something
you'll always need.

You and me are together
in dreams that I swear are memories.

Do you remember?

You are the strange delicacy of a bruise,
turning in color with the passing of the hours and
radiating with a lingering hurt.

You are like hot water to the skin,
beating and burning until it scalds the surface but
soothing a deeper pain.

You are the knife I turn inside myself,
the wound I pick at while it tries to heal,
the flame I hold my hand up against
even though I know how it hurts -

and that is the beauty and burden of love.

There is a constant war within my heart,
a redundant battle about whether it is full
or empty.
There is so much of you
swimming in the void,
that it's impossible to decipher between loss
and love.

In the endless stretch of midnight I find you
wandering along the synapses,
following my brain waves like road maps.
Only here do we still exist,
kept alive by dreams that I swear are memories.
So tell me,

*do you remember?

I broke my heart into a puzzle of pieces
hoping to rebuild the empty people that I met.
Each one asked for a sliver,
but just one was never enough.

I discovered people were more hollow than full,
and that they took more than they gave.
Soon I was the empty one,
my fragmented love living in those
who had already left.

What a breathtaking hell you must endure
to search for yourself in the people you have loved,

but lost.

The thing about Love is that it swallows you whole,
rather than taking bits and pieces at a time.
It does not ask permission,
it does not knock and wait for you to answer.

Love does not ask if you are ready,
or come at the right time;
it does not settle for
"maybe," or "almost."

Love does not rest, or
soften its grip.
It is not patient.

The thing about Love is that it
crashes through you like a wave;
it fills your lungs, breaks your bones and
drowns the cage around your heart.

Love destroys and rebuilds at once,
and I'm not sure whether to smile
or ache.