When I was small,
I had the idea that I wanted a fairy tale love story
with a brave prince to save me,
take me in his arms and ask me to be his,
but I don’t want that anymore.
I want the imperfections,
the awkwardness.
I don’t want you to be my prince charming.
I want you as you are.
I want my awkward white boy from the Midwest
who likes video games, sports, and sings like an angel.
So sing to me,
because if eyes are the windows to the soul
then your voice is a door flung wide open.
And when I thought all my doors where closed
you invited me in for Chick Fil A and lemonade.
It just wasn’t going through my thick head.
You were dropping hints harder than boulders
and it took me awhile,
but I finally cracked on a Pokémon poem,
which you didn’t write,
but the words were just as sweet as ones of your own.
I was oblivious to your advances,
but they say love is blind.
So I want to be lost
like Helen Keller in an Ikea.
And while I am there,
I will pick out a bookshelf for him to build
and we will share stories by the glow of the fire.
The essence of your presence is like smoke
and as fleeting as a dream on the precipice of sleep.
You are like the ‘Q’ words in Scrabble.
You don’t come around often,
but when you do, it’s pretty rewarding.
I wanted to learn every combination of your letters,
but I was careful of my spelling
because I knew your grammatical ways.
Show me chivalry is not dead.
Prove the world wrong, stare it in the face,
turn the other way and take me in your arms.
Instead of a superman in tights,
you will be my savior in gym shorts
because that is much more real
than a dragon slaying demigod.

Who am I?
I'm a dreamer. I'm hopeful. I'm a bag of bones interconected with emotions, through my veins runs as much excitement as blood.

I am messy hair, small eyes and steady hands and my hair is as wild as me, and my small eyes catch all the  beauty hidden in the corners, and my steady hands become an earthquake when I'm about to be kissed.

I'm in my twenties. I'm a teenager in matters of love and I'm a grandma when taking care of my friends. I'm a beast when it comes to fighting and I'm the weakest when it comes to crying. I feel too much and show too little.

I'm a daughter, a sister and a friend. I'm worried. I'm anxious. I'm happy. I'm a rave as much as I'm a book and coffee. I talk until my voice fades but my mouth is a tomb for secrets.

I'm a writer and a reader. I'm a dancing machine and a shower singer.

I'm raising an eyebrow when I don't believe you. I'm a random kiss on the shoulder when I love you. I'm cafuné when I care for you.

I'm optimistic. I'm cautious. I'm becoming what I always wanted to be. I'm strongheaded and lighthearted. I'm in constant wait for the world to show me this is not it and fairytale endings exist.

A flower only grows
When love is there
It can stretch its long stem
High into the sky
Soft, beautiful petals
Are then bright, warm and reach out
That flower is now wilting
Magnificent petals curl and dry
Its stem, its backbone bends in sadness
A flower can only grow
When love is there
But for this night and more
Love will not be there

i hope
that the next time she sees me
it's on tv
and she'll be like
who is that
he's ****
and then she'll see the name
flash on the screen
and realize
that it might be
oh yes it is
me
she can't disguise me
she may despise me
but at least she sees me
on the tv