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I'm tired
But not sleepy.

I'm nothing
But not weightless.

I'm lifeless
But not dead.

I'm numb
But hurting still.
I have yet to fall in love.

I can't go without falling in love,
and having someone catch me
and hold me
and love me back
and promise to never let go

and then never let go.
I'm desperate
Please, if you're going to say you love me,

Say that you love me the way you love the sunrises on school mornings,
City nights where the stars are shining bright enough to touch,
Plants flooding fire escapes,
Stained glass windows nonexclusive to churches,
Sweet watermelon on a salty beach,
The beady-eyed plush dinosaur I carry by my side,
and the waxing-gibbous.

Oh, please love me the same as the waxing gibbous.
I love the waxing gibbous <3
Who are you really?

Are you the person you were born as?

The people you love?

Your memories of the good,

the bad,

the parts you can't quite remember?

The accomplishments they capture on picture frames,

Or the smear frames in-between?

The hurt you've endured,

The struggles that you surpassed?

Some predetermined soul with some predetermined personality,

Or the product of your own acts of creation?
or all of them together,
or nothing at all?
What's your guilty pleasure?

Guilty pleasure?

Yeah, like, sometimes I would lay face down on my pillow and try to resist my humanly urges telling me I'd die if I don't lift my head. It's strangely satisfying to feel life fleeting away before I catch it once it's almost gone too far.

Huh?

So, what's yours?

My what again?

Your guilty pleasure, you idiot.

Um… does writing poetry count?

What - of course not! Thats so lame, "My guilty pleasure is poetry, I'm a nerd-"

Oh.
Sometimes when I'm bored
I would count on my fingers
Searching for haikus
Twain
Rose
LOOK "RIGHT"

FLOWER
Said
not

My disgust and horror

the
Greatest Rose
doesn't
ACTUALLY HAPPEN SOMETIMES
makes more sense on paper-
each line represents a different piece of paper
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