Part of me thinks I'm an idiot waiting for the same old story to have different ending. It's always me crying in the bathroom while you prove to me again, that old habits indeed die hard.

Part of me thinks that I'd be an idiot to let you go. To let go of the speeding heart, the loving glances, the soft touches and your midnight eyes.

I'm an idiot. Always a complete and utter idiot. Over-thinking. Over-thinking everything that happens, never letting go but always wanting to.

Z.a

You tried to kiss me and I pushed you away- you never really cared for the girls your lips touched, and I just couldn't bare to be forgotten.
Your splinted knuckles and your stupid smile got this anger harbored in my gut, and I've been puking butterflies for a while now and their wings have slashed up my insides, and it ******* hurts. It ******* hurts. It ******* hurts because I do care

His words were lies through teeth, and I should've known. Oh, I should've lnown.

Uncanny eyes, and stupid flattery, and how he made me feel so unique.

It's all so dumb, isn't it? I let him in despite my better judement, and started writing about his habit of never finishing cigarettes.

How he took whiskey in chipped glasses, and the bitter alcohol tasted like his own blood. And how things were always a demsotration of power, control, carelessness- rough hands and champagne smiles, and splinted knuckles, and mignight kisses.

And I guess now I know how much a person can realy ******* over.

You're skin and skin and skin-soft silky pale skin- and green eyes and red cheeks and sometimes I think I'm not enough for you because your hair is pink and my mom won't even let me have an ear piercing and you play in a band and I get yelled at for listening to music to loud. I just ******* hate that we are more alike than you think but you'll never know I could be the one for you because I'm too ******* afraid to go against the rules.

You poisoned my sunsets, now I can't watch the horrizon anymore. I guess it was my fault because I wanted to do everything with you and now I can't do a thing without swallowing pieces of broken promises and memories of you.

I dont know what to do
I dont know what to say
So I'll just stop until I can

It was summer and you weren't smoking anymore. You still bit your nails when in stress but at least that doesn't **** you.
My mom said she didn't like you because you smoked and you played in a band, she said you'd break my heart.
I've always been a goodie-two-shoes and I told you I didn't want to disappoint her, and then you asked me if I wasn't disappointing myself.
I told you I couldn't see you because a lighter was always in your pocket and your sweaters always smelled like smoke and your palms were callused and your voicewas awfully musical.
You said you'd give up on anything for me but I told you that if I let you, then I'd be really disappointed in myself, before I left.
I've never cried as much as that night, and I didn't see you for months and then I realized my mother was right, you did break my heart, but only because I made you drop it.
Now its too late for anything and I guess I'll never know how your mouth tastes without the tobacco lingering.

You got me all caught up in words and stares.
The first time I saw you I knew you were differenet, it wasn't the dyed hair though, it was your smile and how you were the first person to see me as a human being- not some experiment labeled fragile.
I remember your favorite songs.
I remember how your laugh sounded.
I remember how you scrunch your nose when your voice cracked.
I remember watching you move, and walking side by side next to me; you were the first to ever asked me where I wanted to go.
And then I knew you and I knew I had been right when I thought you were different, because you are, and I know I'll never find someone who makes me feel like you because of that.

Moments like this I don't even care if you love me back. I have so much love spreading through my blood system demanding to come out. I have so much love inside me and if I don't give it away, it bursts my veins open and  gets my chest tight.
Sometimes at four am I think and think and I just want to love, and love so  desperately it hurts more than not loving at all.
I just want to kiss you all the time but I'd conform with loving you though, because I need to love and you're get me all dizzy and high and giddy with your smile. And if you let me just love you right, then I wouldn't be crying at 8:35 in the night with a bunch of emotions bubbling and longing to give and give and give until I had no more to give.

-Your palms
-Your lips
-Your eyes
-Your smile
-Your laugh
-Your voice
-Your fingers
-Your nose
-Your ******* everything

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I'm craving your initials in trees and writing your name on notebooks.
My heart thumps and thumps and thumps and sometimes I think it's only because of you- you're so out of my league and I'm so ******* sad all the time because my heart is beating for you but I bet I don't even cross your mind.
I hate being the one who loves more, or the one who loves at all. I'm tired of giving my everything away to people who don't even care- but you, God, I can't keep myself from giving it all to you. I can help but hope one day you'll want me and it's killing me, but I'm not walking away; I rather die close to you than far.

We're passengers of two different ships- going to different places, but everytime we meet on port I just can't help but want to follow you instead.

You're a constellation, a juniper standing tall, the smell of rain, the river flowing, the stars shining and the wind blowing.

She once told me she liked being sad, sad enough to feel helpless, because she wrote her best poems when the sky was gray. She was married to the idea that artists need to suffer to create. And I told her she was stupid. I told her that all that sadness escalated from the point where you feel helpless to the point where you become helpless. I told her that what made a good poet was their emotions, like paint did to a canvas- blues and oranges and greens and reds and all the in-betweens, were what helped crating. I told her that being sad didn't help if you didn't had happiness to contrast it with. I told her that poems about jealousy and anger and sadness were beautiful, but they were even better when they were about love and stars and trees and bees and how the world was captivating in every aspect. I told her that the sun was better that tears and that kissing was better than hating. I told her that the sky was prettier when it was the shade of his eyes and that even though he would never look at me the same way back, they were beautiful- he was beautiful. I told her that even when her family never loved her much, she had made it through so much and that was brave, and bravery is beautiful. I told her that the best way to write quality material was to love life- to accept everything it threw at you with wide open arms and when it hit, you had to be human. You had to feel.

My sins are written on paper, my sadness printed on my bones. I am the storyline of a bad movie and the plot of your favorite book. Intense and saddening, but above all, really messed up. I crave what's too out of my league. You are gold and rubies and good poetry, and my prose lacks your name. I am nothing but a whisper between the trees and you're the meadow under the warmth of the Sun.

You crave human touch, like flowers crave the sun after a long winter, but you won't believe it when they give it you.
You expect everyone else to mean everything they say, just because you do, but God, aren't you stupid? You're single handedly handing tickets to your own doom.
You see him as summer rain, as sweet ginger tea, as fronds on the living room, you see him as home, but you and I know he barely knows who you are.
You're living the masochists ways. You're craving what you can't have. You're loving who won't love you back

And the wind was closer to you than I ever was. Your smile was my sun but you never felt the same way back. I stood in the freezing cold contemplating if I should even try, because with you I felt bad but without you I felt even worst. Your lips were euphoric and mine were dead. We were never ment to be, I don't know why I tried so hard to fit like a puzzle piece to you when I knew we weren't from the same box. All I know is that I love you, more than anyone will ever love you.

I can hear the trees sing your name.
I can hear your voice running through my veins.

I want tender touches and long stares. I want warm smiles and contagious laughs. I want endless nights and beautiful days. I want soft caresses and tired eyes. And if you're not the one please stop making me feel like you are. I don't want to love you when you'll leave me on the sidewalk broken and cold.

My mind was corrupted with traces of your smile, each grin cuts like knives because you'll never smile for me.

And if you're not mine why should I envy all the pretty girls that flirt with you?

And if you're not mine why should I even think of kissing your lips so much?

And if you're not mine why should I keep thinking you are?

And if you're not mine why should I care if you look at her the way you should be looking at me?

I am hopeless for you
Hoplessly in love, so much
Don't leave me alone please

I fell into a trap- deep and damp and dark.
And my chest was tight and heaving.
A place where the light would refuse to come, a place of solitude.
A place without you.
You are my sunshine, but you won't shine for me.
I am so in love with you.