Spring came and the flowers bloomed.
By then, hope was at an all time high.
When summer came, flames of light engulfed the ground.
By then hope was nigh.
Autumn came and went in an instant, leaving us with a new color palette of leaves.
There was a sense of renewal in the air, like having hope was alright.
As winter came, and the snow fell around,
My heart said I wasn't wrong to feel the way I did.
When spring came around again,
I realized,
The seasons will always return, but you never will.

It never stops pouring over you.
I've noticed that, in spite of everyone calling you beautiful,
the feeling never rang true to you.

I met you a little over a year ago,
and I had never believed in love at first sight.
But when I saw you awkwardly smiling at nothing,
and heard you giggle at the sound of my jokes,
I couldn't help but feel like I had done something right.
I couldn't help but feel I saw something to love in those eyes.

It took me a little over half a year to build the courage to talk to you.
You see, it wasn't the distance of you being across the class that stopped me.
The devil on my shoulder pulled my strings until I was able to break free.
And I've never had a regret as strong as not talking to you sooner.
The sun suddenly shined brighter and the flowers bloomed in color.
My stutter stopped choking me and my confidence grew like you planted a magic bean in it.

However your view wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.
Your everyday battles were there as inevident as they were.
The naked eye could not see it as hard as they tried,
yet I found myself straining my eyes to see.
I couldn't give you my happiness.
My once clammy hands could not transfer my feelings of joy.

I came to find out about your last love.
How you came out of your shell and he rejected everything about you.
He rejected every aspect of you and left you alone.
My only job now is to be the mechanic, the tuner, the love of your life.
Your broken heartstrings, in disrepair needed artisan hands to fix them;
however, my amateur hands did their best.

Little do you know, you fixed me.
Our rainclouds vanished together in unison.
My simple vocabulary can't find the words to describe you, my love.

But please believe me when I say you're beautiful.

I'VE LOVED YOU FOR A YEAR NOW AND YOU'VE LOVED MY BODY
BUT NOW ALL OF A SUDDEN YOU ******* WANT ME?

i think it's hard to be friends or lovers with a writer. here's why:

1) you have to be careful of what you say, because the writers mostly take every word of yours literally and try to find the meaning in it. say what you mean, and mean what you say.

2) you also have to be wary of your grammar. those people, whom you know as writers, are grammar nazis. if they don't correct you in speech, fret not; it has been done in their word-mazed minds.

3) they will rant and rant and rant, because written words are what cool them off without having them to speak aloud. curse words, words which carry a tune, words which burn into brains... hear them out. do not be lazy to read their rants if they trust you with it. (they could rant about you TO YOU in the end.)

4) this is the hardest part. just remember that they will write about you no matter who you are or what you've done (or maybe you haven't even done anything). these people will write about how they see you. and most of the time, those writings are not so favorable. if you do not want to (literally) end up in their bad books, beware. their words may not last in ink forever but embedded into the hearts of those who read them.

happy reading and living with a reader!

AT LEAST I WON'T INVALIDATE MY CHILD'S ******* FEELINGS

KISS ME SO I CAN BREATHE AGAIN