I never thought I would fall for you twice,
but here I am writing this poem.
I'm just a dandelion lost in this greenhouse
surrounded by these blooming beauties.
But hoping, hopefully
you would make a wish out of me.
You've got this look that makes me crave adventure.
You've got mountains in your eyes
and the northern wind in your soul.
I can't remember the last thing you said to me
and that's okay.
We never talked much thanks to my anxiety.
I'm not too far but my words have failed me so many moons
how am I suppose to talk to you?
You've got your future gripped tight by the wrist
and my hands are lost in all this space.
Maybe sometime in the years to come, I'll discover your footprints
and remember my high school crush all over again.
I'll stop and think if you're out in California making coffee for people,
like I overheard you say you wanted to do in math class that one time,
or strumming a guitar solo on stage somewhere in the city.
I just hope wherever you find yourself in time to come you're happy and smiling brighter than the stars.
I know not much will happen in these last eight months we have together,
but I want to thank you for the day you introduced yourself to me because you knew no one else in the class.
I know I'm just a dandelion in this great big greenhouse,
but I'm just really happy that you noticed me.

I've never been able to get good sleep.
My eyes darker than black holes, I spiral down.
I try to clamber up, but I'm in way too deep.

Daydreaming at night.
The loss of myself, but very aware of my state of mind.
Release is only found within the sunrise.
Every night I stumble on the moon.
I jump star to meteor, hoping gravity pulls me into the space between. Maybe then I can get some real good sleep.

History book worthy battles, I wonder who will be the victor.
Love or loath; a sword drawn to my heart.
Arms apart, head thrown back.
I'm not even entirely sure what part of me I'm killing, I'm just praying for relief, I just want some sleep.

I was sick of the suffering, autopilot is my new definition of personality.
Memories have turned into sadistic nightmares.
Let me free myself from this close eyed, open mind torture.
I cant even stand to walk around my own mind, silence is full of beasts I have yet to slay.    
I'd rather hide in the wounded parts of me, call myself a survivor.
A survivor of nothing out of the ordinary.