You
                    look at me and I sigh,
                    my world filled with a
                    pure haze and fully
complete
                    now that I know the
                    power of your smile.
                    You have brought life to
me.
                    A life I never dreamed of,
                    but now is real, too real.
                    That is the power of
                                                              ­             you-
                    the ability to bring about
                    dreams so big my stomach
                    flutters in fear. I get a
                                                               ­            scare
                    from your optimism, and
                    every bit of positivity you so
                    painstakingly draw out of
                                                              ­             me.

I want to bolt,
                run away,
escape while I can,
before I'm in
              too
                 deep.
                                                                                   One glance from you
                                                                                  and I know-
                                                                                                 I fell,
                                                                                                    too deep,
                                                                                                            long ago.
                                                                                    I couldn't run if I wanted.
It's too much!
                 Too fast!
        Irrational!
my brain cries out.
                                                                      My heart has no room for reason.
                                                                                  It reacts to you,
                                                                                                and you alone.
All senses beg with me
     step back,
              reassess,
         calm down
                       breathe...
                                                                                          But how can I breathe
                                                                                     when you are constantly
                                                                                     taking my breath away?

He had me in the way he brushed
     his bangs from his view
And the way he made me see the world
     wholly anew.

He had me in the way he looked down
     at me and smiled shyly
So the world just melted away and my heart
     skipped away, flying.

He had me in the way his sense of humor
     was biting, sarcastic, and dark
Matching my own as we discovered
     our combined gift for snark.

He had me in the way his fingers moved
     gently over the guitar strings
And the way his voice deepened when
     he said certain special things.

He had me in the way he showed care
     in even the simplest gestures
Always going above and beyond with
     each step, every measure.

He had me in the way his laugh
     made my soul seem to dance
And how he could bring my world to a halt
     with even the quickest glance.

He had me,
     He had me,
          He had me at hello.

He discovered her in a world of grays and blacks.
She put forth the image of smiles and pinks, but held back
secrets, kept in the shadows,
which revealed an artist
trained in writing with silver.
And though she tried her hardest to create purples or the yellows of happiness
red was her medium
until he discovered her,
and ripped her tedium apart
with his sea of green.
He peeled back her layers:
     The false pinks used to fool the world
     Bright oranges, tools for when the pinks began to crack
     The black, forming an endless pool she was slowly drowning in
Until he found the blue
     Blue as the sky in which he made her feel like she was flying
     Blue from the effort of actually trying for once
     Blue as the sea where her soul now seemed to float
He peeled back her layers and showed her just how colorful
the world could be.

"I want to go home,"
                                                                   she thinks
                                                                   while lying in her bed.
She moves through life,
                                                                   a marionette,
never actually living
anywhere outside her head.
Her mind is fully consumed
by dreams of a true home
          this
              mythological
                               place
which she's heard of
but has yet to know.
A quarter century of life
             crawls by
          before she notices.
The search for her home
         falls
               by
                  the
                    wayside,
                                                                   pushed aside.
In its place, the struggle for
mere survival.
But every night,
lying alone in her bed
as she sleepily sighs
it crosses her mind,
                                                                   "I want to go home."
Where is this "home" place
                                                                   she wonders?
Houses are not homes,
she knows this too **** well.
A thunderstorm gathers
within her soul
                                                                   until
finally, she crashes.
                                                                   "I can't take this hell."
A symbolic breakaway and
          a
           home
                    is
                     found
           suddenly,
                  quickly,
without so much as a warning sound.
It is not realized within any dwelling,
but a much simpler place:
            the fit beneath a chin,
            arms she's encircled within.
                                                                   "Home."
It takes on a higher meaning,
a more profound definition.
And there is simply
               no way, no way
she could have known,
had any premonition of the
                                                                   home
that would so easily grow
between their two souls
and make her, for once,
                                                                   at last,
                                                                   feel whole.
            "Sir, I feel at home with you,"
                        she sighs.
            "You are," he replies.
And she knows
                                                                   it's true.

Come to me, sir.
Undress and bare yourself,
a secret only I can know,
so that I may worship the
very essence of you.

Come to me, sir.
Lie here beside me and
let my fingers wind a
path down your body, testing
the clarity of my memory.

Come to me, sir.
So that my kisses may
rain down an electrical storm,
catching wildfire to every
surface of your skin.

Come to me, sir.
Come close to me, so that I
may be consumed whole
by the beauty of your soul.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" you inquire.
I shrug and shake my head, trying to make the question slip-slide its way past me.
"Something. I can tell," you **** on.
I don't exactly know how to explain the hodgepodge of thoughts bustling around up there.

How all of the mismatched puzzle pieces sometimes inexplicably manage to assemble themselves into a picture, but it always comes out distorted.

How my mind is eternal dusk, that magical moment where anything is possible and the night is full of promise. But remember, that's also when the monsters come out to play.

How I have this uncanny ability to skew every word, look, or memory until every one of them is so tainted I will burn us alive while you wonder what the hell is going on.  I'm good at sabotage, you see.

You don't want to know what's going on in this head of mine.  You can try to connect the dots, but none of them are numbered, and you'll lose yourself attempting to understand me.