i swear you lit up skies
with the way you could talk about the things you love.

as you close your eyes tonight
just think
about what we could have had, if only
you'd have talked about me that way
when i was there to listen;

all your romance was spilled in solitary rooms
almost as dark as my insides felt,
as if you believed
that shouting "i love you" into the void
would ever reach me

but i know you've never had much faith,
that you can't even believe in yourself
let alone anyone
or anything else.
so you were just scared, you were
scared of so many things
and i could never figure out how or

why
why would you be scared of me?
no, i think you were scared of yourself.

if you knew enough about me to
love me
then you would have known that
for all my anger, my violence,
for all my strength

i am more vulnerable than you.

were you scared that admitting your love
would be my undoing?
maybe you didn't know me so well
after all
it was your love that could have saved me
and now?

now i'm back to the way i was before,
lying in dark rooms at four in the afternoon like
the world outside doesn't exist
and
neither do i

I can scream from the top of my lungs at the highest point in our city,
where my voice will echo throughout the buildings,
"I love you" bouncing from east to west,
and right back to us,
wrapping themselves around the teenage bodies that hold angst, and lust, and love,
but most importantly hope,
the hope that taught me life was worth the late night fights from parents who need a long overdue divorce,
it's worth the headaches masking the buried worry that sits deep in my chest,
it's worth the tears that shed late at night when the demons come out to play only be wiped away from you.
it's worth it all,
because I know you'll be there to make me smile when there's nothing to smile about.

I want to ask
What reminds you of me?
But if you were to ask me back
I couldn't pick one thing
Because my mind likes to bring
Everything back to you
But then maybe my answer is
That I remind myself
Of you

I'm sick of missing you.
It's been over a month.
But I still long for you.
It's killing me inside.
I know I can't have you back.
I don't want you back.
I'm sick of dreaming.
Because every time I dream...
I dream of you.
I don't want to close my eyes anymore.
You're always there, with me or another.
I know these dreams can't come true.
I don't want them to.
I'm sick of the memories.
It's not that they're bad memories.
It's not that at all.
But they are of you.
And I don't want them anymore.

i know you.*

i know how you looked at me the first time our eyes met
"what the hell does this guy want from me?"

i know you.

i know how what they called the "devil's hour" never feels like it because of your fruitless attempts to suppress your laughter when we're on the phone

i know you.

i know how happiness fills me when your fingers fill the gap in mine, or when your warmth permeates my very being.

and now i know how one letter can make *one heck of a difference

*i knew you.