You could be so pretty
if
your hair was straight
or at least neat 
and not fire engine red

You could look so lovely
If 
you didn't insist on wearing
tatty jeans
Yellow Dr Marten boots
Dropkick Murphys tees
and you weren't covered in tattoos

You could have a better life
If
You hadn't married
that blue eyed
empty pocket
*** smoking
dreamer

You could have more time to clean
If 
you didn't waste it
writing pointless poems
with your head in the clouds
listening to that awful racket

You could be more ladylike
If 
you didn't attend protests
railing against politics
didn't smoke, drink,
swear like a sailor
and stayed away from mosh pits.

You could be better
If 
you were a lot more me
and a hell of a lot less you
After all I've done
You were not what I was expecting..

Well, it was good talking to you
I love you mum
I love you too..
Lets do this again soon!

you're beautiful
not the stereotypical kind
more like a forest fire
destroying everything
yet still lighting up the whole sky

i fell in love with you.

not after we spoke for hours on the phone
and not after i fell asleep in your arms
and not after you sang me a song to
help me sleep.

but when we kissed it was the sweetest taste
of your lips stained with coffee and tattooed
with the taste of cigarettes and *****;
they told me a story about you without
using words...
and that's crazy, isn't it?

i fell in love with you before you said a word to me.
and it wasn't your perfectly placed brown hair or
your eyes that glistened under the sun,

but it was how you could tell me a story without even
opening your mouth.

It's a ship that gets us through the ocean of life when that wave of doubt or unfortunate events falls upon us and we see no way out.

When we're single and need someone to spend those dateless nights with.

When we find ourselves in situations that only a simple call can fix.

When we're bored and want to just laugh at things no one else understands.

When we're old and sad, but hey, even then life is not too bad when you have friendship to get you past-on to the harbor where joy will forever last.

If I hold this mug of tea tight enough, it mimics your touch and the feel of your warm skin against mine. When I press it to my lips and drink it deep I can remember me breathing in the kisses and lies you poured down my throat and I'll not sip gently I will gulp it all down in the hopes that it could somehow keep you in my mouth. But I hold onto this mug that is warm like you, and I hold on for too long and find it burns my skin and my throat and tongue. It blisters my fingers and boils my lips when I try to touch it, when I try to love it. Just like you did.