Roses are red

Violets are blue

But roses aren't really red they're kinda this weird shade of apple

And violets are far from blue, they're actually purple

See these are the lies we tell ourselves so the rest of our stories make sense,

Like I keep telling myself that "I love you's" are best said in twos

But I think the chances of that these days are about as good as trying to find a violet that's actually blue so

In that case

Roses are apple

Violets are purple

Good luck trying to finish that one

Because my "I love you's" are lonesome.

You ain't ever gonna know what it's like

Watching painfully from a distance

Your story as a romance film

Where I am both the writer and the viewer

But someone has taken away my pen

And put your film on rerun

Not knowing how painful it is to watch.

Oh Father, if this is hell then show me the way so I may absolve my sins and wash away this punishment.

Amen.

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.

We will carry this silence between us

And let the atmosphere tell our story

Because we both know we won't.

I love you is too generous for you

And I hate you is too permanent for me

And we've both agreed there's no in between.

So we will carry this silence between us.

As the atmosphere tells our story

Where we will both be waiting

For one of us to break the silence.

I was not your cup of tea

you said, as I begged you just to take one sip.

You would walk into her room to find an awful mess. All the stars in the universe laid across her bedroom floor as she had plucked them one by one unsatisfied with every purchase.

No wonder I didn't see any stars last night.

I found her curled up on her bed crying. She said nothing was wrong with the most beautiful smile on her face simultaneous to her tears flowing like graceful Nile river wannabes.

You could see her pain. She was really ****** when it came to hiding it.

Sometimes you'd be looking straight into the eyes of pain, but you'd momentarily fall in love because it's so beautiful.

Despite her pain and her messy *** room there were days where she loved herself more than anyone else. And those days were frequent.

And on those days you could see how truly beautiful she is. It's like God took much longer when he made her, kinda like he was finessing her design.

I told her exactly that once and she replied:

"He made me weirdly pretty I think, like not normal pretty. Weird pretty. Idk."