"The world needs more hopeless romantics."
What does it mean to be a hopeless romantic?
It means my heart breaks when the person I adore chooses another.
I fall hard and fast for those who may not feel the same.
I would climb mountains for my partner, while they might walk all over me.
It means I write poetry for those who will never know.
I love the person I am with, and care for them until they leave me.
I pour my heart into my lovers.
Everyone who uses the phrase hopeless romantic seems to forget the most important part of the term.
Hopeless
Being this way is lonely and soul crushing.
Hopeless yet never ceasing my search.

... to whisper sweet nothings into your ear long into the night.
... to journey across the globe in search of an ocean as deep as my love.
... to hold you in my arms while vowing never to let you go.
... to kiss your tender lips with my own.
... to envelop your long brown hair between my fingers.
... to glide my hands across your body.
... to drive a thousand miles just to be closer to you.
... to glide through the clouds by the sound of your laugh.
... to nudge my nose against yours as our foreheads touch.
... to climb every mountain, canyon, and cave just to rescue you from peril.
... to bend down on one knee and ask you to be with me for all of eternity.

It's been a rough year.
It feels so tiring, to be so alone.
When I wake up in an empty bed, I cannot help but run away.
My heart has no home.
I long to fade into you.
Am I the chorus or the verse?
Neither lasts that long.
I know not what I do.
I just want to be held, to feel like I belong.
I reach out my hand, but only touch the void.
I feel it flowing through my veins.
They say This soon shall pass.
But it will never fade, my loneliness has already overtaken the day.

Lay me down in fields of green,
whisper promises and dreams,
as wildflowers sway in rippled sighs,
and treetops kiss the smiling sky.
Hold me close and stroke my hair,
while breathless love songs fill the air.
Never fear for I am near,
always close to you my dear.

Her eyes are filled with a world of endless possibilities.
She catches as he stares at her.
What are you looking at?
She says with a smile, her adorable half smirk.
Just your beautiful brown eyes
He responds, smiling back.
She laughs and blushes, looking down at her plate.
That tender laugh was filled with such warmth.
He reached out and took her hand gently in his own.
Her eyes looked up, her cheeks still flush.
You truly are incredible
They both returned to eating, smiling at each other from time to time.
Never breaking the joy that hung in the air.

I look over at you, seated in the next row.
Glancing at your hand, I wonder how it would feel to hold.
Our fingers curling together, grasping each other.
My heart skipping a beat.
Chills running through my body.
Your warm palm pressing against my own.
Our hands fit together like puzzle pieces.
I rest my head on your shoulder and smile, closing my eyes.
What a world it would be, if you were with me.
Until then I just sit alone, wondering what that place would be like.
Maybe one day I will finally feel the safety your hands provide.

I didn't know you were there.
I suppose you never went anywhere.
Seeing him in his chair caused me to realize I kind of cared.
Never before had I really stared.
But he changed my world by just being there.
I suppose this is special in some way.

It feels impossible to explain what I feel when I am near you.
So many emotions flash through my heart and soul.
I beg my mind to just put into words what I am feeling.
But as I stare at the blank screen, only silence resonates.
How can I explain the sheer magnitude of safety I feel when I simply stand next to you?
What words could be used to describe the beats my heart skips when you smile?
How many pages would it take to recount the exhilarating tenderness of your touch?
If I could paint, no canvas would be enough.
If I could sing, no set of lyrics could encompass my joy.
I have been told that I talk so much, yet when I am asked to describe you I fall silent.
How can I put into words the feeling of my heart, trembling in my chest as you sit next to me?
It may be a futile gesture to attempt these explanations.
But I will never stop trying.

Scuffed case.
Paired and synced.
Simple, easy.
Simplistic beauty.
Music plays.
Audio flowing.
Eardrums tremble.
Heartbeat flowing.
Time slowing.
Soul escaping.
Joy replacing.

A simple glance during class brightens my day.
I look down and see your shoe tracing circles on the carpet.
Sliding my foot closer to yours, I hold my breath.
I stare forward, my mind blank.
My heart beats rapidly, pounding in my ears.
Suddenly I feel your shoe tap against mine.
Once, twice, several times.
Shivers go up and down my spine.
I catch my breath and close my eyes for a moment.
My world is at peace, my heart is calm.
I glance over to your hands, twirling a pencil around.
If only it were as simple to touch your hand.
I imagine reaching over, and your fingers interlocking with mine.
My heart begins beating faster and faster.
A sudden noise awakens me from my daydream.
Class is over.
My sun rises up, packing their bag.
I force a smile and say goodbye.
They smile back, wishing me well.
As they walk away I smile, my heart skipping a beat.

I walk into class and sit in my chair.
H. smiles, their chair spinning around to face me.
I look up at H., awkwardly smiling back.
They ask me how I am, their foot gently tapping my leg.
I take a deep breath.
The feeling of H.'s foot against my leg sends shivers all over my body.
I respond, and unpack my things.
Class goes on, H.'s foot occasionally brushing against my leg.
Accidently?
Purposely?
The professor says something vaguely stupid.
H. glances over at me and rolls their eyes, smiling.
That smile, it gets me every time.
Class comes to an end, with reality rushing towards me.
H. picks up their cell phone and laughs, texting their special someone.
Someone else.
We part ways and I sigh.
Until next lecture.
Until then, I will wait for H.
And smile at the simple thought of them.

Fumbling through a drawer my fingers brush against a familiar plastic object.
I grasp onto the tiny memory card and pluck it from the hiding place.
The card slides into the computer port with a satisfying click.
Click.
A window pops up with long lost folders.
All of the files unrecognizable, with icons indistinguishable from the rest.
I slide the cursor across the screen.
Hovering over a random folder.
Hovering.
Click.
As fast as I clicked the folder, my cursor flew towards the red “X”.
Click.
The folder closed.
My heart raced.
It had been a year.
One long year.
A face I had long tried to erase from my mind was now burned into its forefront.
My fingers pull out the drive.
I throw it into the trash.
Sadness fills my heart.
Her face.
Her smile.
Her eyes.
Those features of a ghost were now reborn in my mind.
A ghost.
My ghost.
Am I forever haunted?

He sat on the edge of his bed, the room surrounded by darkness.
The air was cold and harsh, wind blowing through an open window.
Sound crackled from the panel, as lights flashed across the board.
He stood up in a rush, tumbling off his bed.
Blue streams of light swirled in a cylindrical fashion.
The man rose up, staring into the whirling and shapeless light.
A woman's face appeared within the light.
Then her arms.
Chest.
Legs.
She was there.
Tears welled up in his eyes, streaming gently down his cheeks.
The woman began to smile, and cried along with him.
She reached out her hand, in an attempt to brush away his tears.
Her fingers made of light faded across his tear ridden face.
The pixels made no contact with his skin.
They both stood there, smiling, staring into each others eyes.
Seconds turned into minutes, which turned into hours.
As they sat together laughing at a inconsequential event, they both knew it was time.
His hand hovered near her projection, her hand hovered near his.
They closed their eyes and imagined a world in which distance did not matter.
With a hiss the machine came to a halt.
The room was silent.
Darkness once more filled the void.
The man got up and walked towards his bed.
He sat on the edge, and began to wait.

I arrived to class several minutes late, parking was terrible.
Darting between seats, I wandered towards my seat.
There she was sitting across from my seat at the table; the purple girl.
Today she looked over at me and smiled, then resumed listening to the lecture.
Her purple pencil flicked up and down as she passively tapped it against her open notebook.
Her purple shoe flopped loosely against her heel, dangling onto her forefoot.
Her purple hair shone in the  daylight pouring through the window.
After class my brain fought with itself, debating on speaking with the purple angel.
As she arose with her packed purple pouch, I uttered a phrase.
“Your hair looks lovely today.”
I looked away, embarrassed with my not so subtle compliment.
She giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her eyesight.
“Thank you, I like yours too.”
She wandered out of class with the other students.
Next time I will finally raise up my courage.
For the purple girl.

Flying through the air at speeds unknown.
Eyes closed.
Heart racing.
Traveling to a land riddled with memories of pain.
Is it possible to enjoy the pain?
Joy opens up the soul to more pain.
Eyes open, clouds passing beneath.
The world lives on beneath the massive metal machine.
Humans work on, unaware of the several hundred bodies flying overhead.
Life goes on, joy remains yet a distant dream.
The plane lands.
Life goes on.

Steinbeck wrote of a restlessness many feel.
The urge to run away and find adventure.
To travel, wander, discover, and be free.
Every person has this feeling inside of them, pushing them to escape the boredom of reality.
To roam the countryside.
Surviving with nothing but the clothes on your back and the cash in your pocket.
Is this not living?

Remember.
Relive.
Feel.
Focus.
Write.
Type.
Spell check.
Edit.
Share.
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A solar eclipse of angelic proportions stretches across the day sky.
Space and time stopping for just a moment.
Waging factions joining hands for a temporary ceasefire.
To halves are whole for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then they move past, uncoupling again.
The world begins to move again.
Cars drive on, taxis honk their horns, people cross the streets of life.
What seemed so cataclysmic and final; was merely anticlimactic and dissolvable.

I would wander a desert, because you are my water.
I would sail the ocean blue for years on end, because you are my new continent.
For decades I would search for a cure, because you are my sickness.
Late nights, long hours, and endless drives. All in search of what I lost.
Oh what I would do for you.
I would stay up all night to keep you company while you studied.
Seconds, Minutes, Hours, Days, Weeks, Years, Decades.
All irrelevant when I am with you.
I do not need coffee to keep me up, you are my energy.
I do not need sleep, because you are my rest.
My love for you is like a circle; it has no beginning and knows no end.
I love you.

I miss her, yet I cannot forget her.
Like echoes of a time long gone.
Silence is my reality.
Try as I might she still holds my mind tight.
Is it her fault for being so captivating?
Maybe it is my own doing, for loving her too deeply.
I feel lost in a lake of dreams.
Dreams haunted with her presence, and nightmares filled with her absence.
She has forgotten me.
Now I am the only scribe left to keep our memory alive. So I write on.
I will not forget these memories, nor will I stop dreaming of a fantasy no longer attainable.
I will forever chase these memories of a dream long gone.

Crystal blue waves lapped against the shore.
The sun began to set.
Wind gently brushed through the palm trees, rustling the leaves. Tenderly shuffling the birds who rested insides its leafy embrace.
Looking down the beach I could see her standing there.
She was always there. She was always smiling.
Her eyes were closed as her hair gently blew in the wind, face lit by the dying embers of the day’s last breath.
Every moment in time was captured in her simple existence.
Every toil and pang was expressed in her sheltered eyes.
I waded through the mushy sand towards her, thinking of how it would feel to hold her close.
I pictured her turning towards me, opening her eyes, and opening her arms to embrace me.
The sand slugged between my feet.
Every step was erased by the oceans never ending grasp on the beach.
The closer I became the more I saw of her beauty.
Her brown hair seemed to hold an infinite amount of splendor, as if all of creation had taken a rest on her strands of hair.
They say that the journey is better than the destination.
Maybe they are right.
Maybe my image of her would overshadow her actual presence. Could it be that her simple existence was nothing but a shadow compared to my artistic portrait of her?
I was almost there.
The person I had waited my entire life for was a mere walks distance from where I stood.
I was not wrong, I knew that every glorious detail he had longed for was true.
As I stood there staring at my life’s desire, she turned towards me and opened her eyes.
This was it, this was the moment I had dreamt of for so long.
As our eyes met, a lump formed in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes.
She was perfect.
Inside of her eyes I could see everything.
Every single wish I had ever made was inside of those two spheres. They glistened in the orange glow of the setting sun.
Like two pools holding the one soul meant for me.

I only have so much space to offer now.
You have taken so much of it.
One area is filled with the memory of our first kiss; which takes up several acres.
Over there is the memory of your smile, which takes up a whole state.
There are several dozen blocks designated to memories of movies we saw together.
Three states are filled up with songs you said reminded you of me.
I have so little free space.
Every thought I have bumps into a memory of you.
Every time I try to remember if I forgot something at the store, your smile rises to the front of my mind's queue.
How much longer will you own land in my mind?
Please.
Please.
I have so little space left.

Trying not to overthink is an exercise in futility for me.
Imagine 3 trains going moderately fast, but each with a varying speed.
Now take those trains and double them while increasing their speeds.
Do that once more.
Imagine how chaotic that would look in reality. Now just warp the image so the trains are all on uneventful tracks that look like a roller coaster.
All of that is how overthinking works inside my brain.
My mind.
So many trains, so much worry, so many thoughts to think. There is never enough time for all of them; yet there they all go. Zooming around the receptors in the mind.
Blurry blobs of information and thought.
"Don't forget the milk. Milk. Milk. Milk. And her name was Joanne. Joanne. Yeah. Whoa that is a crazy deal! Milk Joanne. What in the world would a milk Joanne look like? **** I forgot the milk!"
A dozen trains on a dozen tracks. All flying loose like a thousand bats.

I love the voice.
I adore the beat.
I connect with the lyrics.
Our song moves me in ways nothing else can.
As I listen, a memory begins to stir.
You are there in my car; laughing, smiling, looking at me with those heartbreaking eyes.
How can a memory posses a song?
Like a sickness the song causes me to weaken and become sad.
I slow down and reflect on my loss of you.
How can it be so wrong to love what I once derived joyful feelings from?
Now all I obtain while listening is heartbreak.
Our Song is a haunted song.

The rain splashing against my car's windshield, as it is flung from another car's tire.
The whoosh of air across the roof.
That audible shift when driving surfaces change beneath the vehicle.
“Click Click Click”
The blinker chimes, as I wait to turn left.
As I turn, the steering wheel groans with the car’s leftward weight shift.
I yawn.
Traffic goes on.
I glance to the billboards littering the highway’s landscape.
One reads; “Does advertising work? Just did!”
Hardly.
A sharp honk heard from behind. I had been daydreaming again.
My hands rise up apologetically as I press my foot to the gas and drive on.
I miss her.
"Stop, not now." I mutter. "Drive on."
So I drove on.

There she stood. Beautiful. Perfect. As I looked at her she faded away. Not because I was forgetting her, but because she had forgotten me.
When the world turns. The days changes. Night's dark veil is pierced by the spear of oncoming daylight. Day reigns triumphant until the darkness arrives, drowning out the light. This endless cycle goes on. My heart beats on.
The battles never cease. The war knows no end. But her love knew an end. Without her love, the days seem shorter and the nights drag on.
The darkness chokes the light faster than before. The daylight whimpers behind a shield of clouds and rain, Spring drags on. Summer drags on. Fall drags on. Winter drags on. The world drags on. My heart drags on. Missing her. Loving her. Crying for her.
The day reminds me of the joy I do not have. The night drowns me with its cool touch. How much longer until the night lasts forever? When will the daylight become a lie I tell my children before they go to bed?
Rocks tumble down the hillside of my face. They turn to dust, blowing away in the breeze. The memories of those boulders sting worse than the quake itself. The avalanche of grief in my heart floods any semblance of normality.
Life has always found a way to go on. But not for my internal purgatory. My self hating prison of darkness. As the imperfect man waits for heaven or hell, so does my heart wait for judgment.