Time is of the essence,
Just waiting to teach the lesson
Of why good things don't last
And end up in the past.

Time is ticking on by,
Strapped to the wall, it's all going to fly
Right past us if we don't stop to think
That maybe we're on the brink

Of losing all the time we have to use.
Dear, we're just loose
Hands to a clock spinning without accord to
Where we're headed, just spinning through

The motions and wasting time trying
To make it work. We are defying
The laws of time and throwing it away,
Wasting another day.

Like the little and big hand,
We only land
Side by side, one over the other only so
many times, and this leads me to know

That I'm ticking one way,
And you're ticking astray.
So maybe we save some each other the time
And draw the line

*here.

Clocks innately bind us to circumstance and the off chance that maybe we'll land side by side, 11:59 to my 12 o'clock.
Abiding by the time we are afforded, the ticks are sported on the leather and faces on our wrists.
I found you at the wrong time and now I've come to find you're consuming all of mine.

Just come follow me
Let's do something amazing
And let it all go

I let out too much, too soon
Like an untied balloon losing its' air,
Like a bottle of soda bursting at an unwound cap.

I let out too much, and much too soon-
I know because I am with my chin on my knees,
Wondering how I could open up so easily

To someone who doesn't know too much,
And not soon enough to realize that
Me opening up is like a tidal wave engulfing the shore.

You don't know much about that
I'm soon enough going to let all my secrets leak
From my cracks and tell me, can you handle that?

Seriously can't stress it enough, just tell people how you feel about them. It's hard and it's scary and it's daunting to open up but Jesus what is the point in feeling for someone if you can't tell them? Who cares if you look like a **** fool telling someone how you feel, you'd be even more foolish to not say a thing. People leave, they die, or things fizzle out; it happens. It's pessimistic  but that's realistic; it's life.

One of my favorite lyrics is from Ron Pope- "Beautiful things never last, that's why fireflies flash." It's so true. Moments and people come and go and if you feel for someone just tell them then. I don't want to have someone feel something for me and just let it sit in his or her mind, I want to know about it. So if you love someone say something. If you hate someone, say something. If you're thankful, if you're annoyed, if you're happy, if you're devastated, if you're unsure- say something.

It's such a cliché but life is very honestly too short to keep quiet when your heart is thumping so loudly in your **** chest because you're too nervous to open your mouth to tell someone what they mean to you. Tell people. Write to people. Do something about your feelings. We feel and letting your feelings slip under the radar, to me, is a shame. I know we all express ourselves differently but for crying out loud at least let people know what they mean to you, because someday you may not be able to and you may wish you had said something. You know what's scarier than opening up? Leaving things unsaid, leaving your feelings to your own heart and mind, letting people go unnoticed and unappreciated or uninformed. That's scarier than opening up your mouth to say something about your feelings.

You're a tornado-

You spin madly around and sometimes carry things off with you. People and objects fall into your vortex and spin around madly with you.

You spin yourself dizzy, to the point where standing still sometimes isn't possible because you might have forgotten how.

You hit the earth below you and blaze a trail ahead, leaving your mark wherever you go.

You rustle leaves 100 miles away and send some flying just as far.

Sometimes you feel like a tornado-

You jumble things up and feel like when things hit your path, you run through them and scatter them around.

You spin so fast that no one can slow you down, that you're always spinning on your own and finding someone that could adjust to your spin is one in a million.

You never stop spinning because that how your mind works; it spins day and night, endlessly. You're always spinning new scenarios and thoughts in your turbulent mind.

You feel like you may destroy people you run through, and sometimes they try to tell you to spin a different way or cease to spin at all, and that hurts. They don't understand that if you don't stop spinning, you may just cease to be who you are all together.

When I say you are a tornado, I mean well-

Not everyone looks at a tornado and sees what I see.

People see chaos, destruction, instability.

Sometimes I know you see that in yourself.

Sometimes I see it in you too.

But as a tornado, you have what others don't-

Someday, someone will step into your storm and be your calm.

They won't be afraid of who you are, like you are sometimes of yourself.

They'll see what the luckiest people in your life see in your storm;

Absolute beauty, uniqueness, individuality, empathy.

Not everyone can see the beauty in a storm-

It takes a special eye, and a special kind of person to love you.

Not because you're undeserving, but because you're different than the rest.

You're one of a kind, that's why no storm has the same name.

It's why no storm hits the same ground. Every storm differs, but there are only so many.

So when I say you're a tornado, this is what I imply-

You're scary to some people you're powerful and provoking and interesting.

You will sweep someone away someday.

Someone will look at you like you're the best thing to have hit his life, literally.

Someday, a man will be able to see the beauty in your storm and spin with you, always by your side.

You're a tornado-

You're one hell of a sight,

Unmistakably one of a kind,

Wild, crazy, enticing and beautiful all in your own,

With a storm inside of you that someone is going to find someday, and that person will be dizzy with how different you are, and will ultimately get swept away by you.

I promise.

I tied your hands behind your back
In so many different ways.

One day, as I laced them together
At the small of your back,

You smirked and asked,
"What is this all about, exactly?"

The coy smile on your face
Didn't transfer to mine.

You felt this was a game,
Maybe a new "thing" I wanted to try.

Very seriously,
I prompted you and said,

"Touch me."

You looked across the room, dumbfounded,
As if I had asked you to fly or walk on water.

You looked down,
Fingered the rope around your wrists,

Looked back up into my eyes
And responded with,

"But how?
You tied my hands up."

I saw the puzzlement in your eyes,
As you tried to comprehend why I'd ask you

To try and touch me
With your hands behind your back.

I said it once more-
"Touch me."

You then looked at me like I was stupid,
Like I was out of my mind.

"Look, you tied my hands up.
Can't you see there is no way for me to touch you?",

You stated, matter-of-factly, to the point
Where I knew you would never understand.

I slowly backed away,
And began to turn,

But not before I looked over my shoulder
And said,

*"You don't always need your hands to touch someone,
And if that's the only way you know how to touch a person,
Then I'd rather you not touch me at all."

When we watch TV
And your hand is placed
On my knee,
Drawing lazy circles

With your finger tips,
I'm looking over at you and
Examining the outline of your lips,
The way they part when you exhale

And the way they're thin
And small and especially divine
When they crack into a grin.
I'd rather they find mine.

I like looking at you
When you aren't looking at me
Because I've always thought your profile
Is so very lovely.

I enjoy the way you look
When you're focused on the TV-
You're natural, comfortable, at ease
And as captivating as you'll ever be.

I wanted you to care so badly about me that I forgot to care about myself.

How is it that you still continue to care less, and continuing to care for you is something I can't even help?

In these fleeting moments we become what we shall be-
It is in the books we read, the shows we watch, the shops we frequent, the food we eat, the people we associate with, the place we call home.
Ensure you are only surrounded by what you constitute to being the best,
For then you shall be nothing short of precisely that- the best.

The last time the caged bird sang,
So light, so shrill,
The memories rang,
To forget would ****.

Her life was encaged,
Tightly bound,
She promised herself to never rage,
Her homes were compressed and never found.

Deterioration took place,
On the brink of hysteria,
Fragile as aged lace,
Life became a controlled area.

With her lovely wings,
She used to soar,
She only remembered the hard things
Ambitions leaked through the cracks on the floor.

Lies came into mind,
Revealing and bitter,
It was one of a kind,
How this hit her.

All she asks for is closure,
Of her torn heart,
The ways they still hold her,
It tears her further apart.

Living in this is driving her to conclusions,
She thought she would never meet.
Lying to herself, "It's just an illusion",
This is her defeat.

She had the confidence to break through it all,
The hope begins to lose their vibrant colors
Rock bottom broke her fast paced fall,
She lies there and devotes herself to wonders

So as the caged bird sang for the last time,
So light, so shrill,
The memories are ringing,
To remember kills.

I've felt vulnerable fully clothed and confident when confidence is all I have on-
Vulnerability is more than being bare for someone to see it all.

It is shedding the coat of bitterness because it ignited fires in my heart that sought to burn me down with it.

It is unbraiding the strands of hair coiled into a tight braid of rigidity, of being so tense and stern.

It is peeling off the shirt of past hurt, one that threatens to shrink tighter every time I wash it with my tears.

It is untying the shoelaces that bound me to a path I didn't foresee, a path I cannot forge and a path that does not lead me anywhere but where I have already been.

It is sliding out of a sheath of selfishness, one that clothes me in want and doesn't serve anything I need.

It is ******* all of my preconceived notions of how to live, why people hurt and why I still do regardless of the joys I have seen. It is stripping myself bare of façades and painted faces, the kind that insist I am fine when I am so far from it and closer to the dark than ever before. It is opening my mouth to cry and to ask for help even when I am blind to the hands reaching for me. It is admitting that I struggle to get a grip and some days I can only grip myself into a hug and hope for more.

Vulnerability is more than being skin and bone exposed- it is seeing past that with the naked eye.

Waking up every morning with you on my mind weighs me down,
Anchors me to my bed and sheets
Because at this rate,
This is the only time we will ever meet.

I miss the way your hair felt
Between my fingers
And the way you kissed my neck;
Everything continues to linger.

Whether it be how your smile
Took up your face
Or how your hands always found mine,
You're impossible to replace.

I wake up with thoughts
Of your real laugh
Or how your hands knew my body
Without having ever looked at a map.

I wake up tangled
In sheets that cannot rival your embrace.
I wake up saddened
That I'm not waking up to your face.

I wake up tangled
In my mind because losing you
Was so much more than a hand to hold-
That I always knew.

Losing you meant
Losing sleep and time
To pondering over
How I let you slip from being mine.

The sun comes up,
As do my eyelids and chest-
I wish the thoughts of you
Didn't come also, and would rather rest.

I tell myself to go to bed
Just one more time.
But so far, inevitably,
You are still on my mind.

Mmm wishin I was sleeping under the stars in someone's arms and living in the now, not in my math class or my empty bedroom or my part time job. I'm wishin I was driving down the coast where the ocean is as vast as the possibilities ahead of me. I'm hopin I'll wake up in a new city with a camera and suitable walking shoes so I can meander and document my days the way they should be. Really just hopin to break the cycle and find myself so engrossed with travel and bliss and love for what's happening in the moment and embracing it for what it is. I'm needin the sunshine and skinny dipping by moonlight and reading big books under trees and singing my favorite songs with a big, real smile on my face. I'm wishin the woods could be my home and the stars could be my map to happiness and your hands could teach me a thing or two. I want to kiss the sunsets and chase them down and wake up the next day to endless opportunities and sheer appreciation for what I'm afforded- a new, fresh day to experience and be present and learn, grow and understand this eccentric and ever-changing world that somehow stole my heart before anyone else could.

Storing the tears dripping from your cheeks so I can water color you a picture of why, even at your worst, you're a work of art-

Whoever created you, evolution or God or the pairing of particular chromosomes, dipped their brush into a palette of sunsets and starry night skies and painted your bright smile.

They borrowed from evergreens and forever instilled a dark green hue for your eyes that are as old-soul as the rings of the trees.

Your skin came from the white of peaches, your freckles from the brown of river stones smoothed by the water and time.

The curls and color of your hair came from beaches that only knew washing waves, seagulls and tiny ***** and seashells.

Your strength emulates mountaintops covered in white snow, blown by harsh winds yet still standing tall.

A mind like yours looks like clockwork- gears grinding constantly,, hands spinning and continually rotating, not even stopping when easing into the darkness of night.

Strawberry-red across your cheeks when you blush, the white of crashing waves when you receive news that's takes the color from your face, yellow sunflowers when you laugh the way you do.

A heart like yours was painted from the heart of mine- I dipped a brush into my own heart because I know there is where I know you best, where I honestly know you for who you are.

Cry your tears, give them to me.

I'll make you out to be what you really are, what your eyes cease see-

Your tear-cleared eyes aren't cleared enough for they do not believe that you are nothing short of a masterpiece.

Fully clothed, I dove in head first
Sure you would follow
No need to look back was my thoughtful curse
Emerging, though, my heart grew cold and and hollow

You never even grazed the broken waves
Unstilled by my dive
Holding my breath while my soul caves
Seeing that you chose not to arrive

Caught in your once loving current
I chose to tread
My heart to you I once lent
Now drowns until pronounced dead

Begging for calmer seas
Only got me so far out into your waves
Getting cut and hurt by your violent reefs
Yet my heart yearns to stay

I could've swam your ocean forever
Held my breath and gone below
Calmly content underwater together
Running out of breath was unknown

I want to swim more
But your waves still thrash
So I will stay ashore
While your calm water continues to thrash

Unplaced, uncalled for sadness is the worst;
Like a ****, it sprouts up
In some crack within my ribcage.

I don't understand the sadness.
It goes ignored and disregarded
Because I can't place why it began to grow,

And it'll just continue to grow
Until it takes over my body,
Growing by the streams down my cheeks.

I finally get what I've dreamt of;
My fingers laced between yours,
A meaningful conversation,
And an opportunity to just be with you.

I took the first step, took a shove
Into your arms, asking for
You to give me some reciprocation-
And that's precisely what you do.

Your feelings and love
Are misplaced, because who you adore
Is not who I really am, more like a romanticized creation
You formed in your head, too good to be true.

I cannot be yours simply because I seem
To mold to what you desire,
To form to your liking,
To be seemingly perfect in your eyes.

You look at me, your eyes gleam
With a long-burning, hearty fire
That I'm alluring and utterly striking;
I am that of which it all defies.

I am not so fit for you, not a cog to your machine
In which we fit together and conspire
To somehow work out kinks, our chances hiking
To the highest peak, somewhere touching the skies.

You're off in the distance,
Where the fog is thick enough that
You can only see my hand in the air.

It's waving you down,
Telling you to come closer
And be where I am.

As you get closer though,
You notice my hand is waiving
A white flag because I give up.

All I ever wanted was for you
To be closer and I'm sorry it took me
Waving my hands over my head to get you near.

All I ever wanted was effort and
I didn't find what I wanted so rather
I'll wave good bye and drop the white flag in your hands.

You came near because I beckoned you
And I wish you would've came to me
Without me asking.

Take the white flag and remember me by it.
Remember that though you gave up in trying,
I didn't give up in finding someone who won't.

You're waiving your white flag
With less than enough effort
To convince me you are done.

I know your heart is desheveled, crumpled
Into a ball of torn misery between
What to do with me.

You need space, you can't fathom space.
You need time, you won't take the time.
You need peace, I make it hard to obtain that.

So if you feel a force underneath your elbow,
Pushing your arm high enough to see
That you're waiving that flag in my face,

Know it's me pushing you there.
Know I'll hold your elbow there for so long,
And walk away once you have enough strength to keep it there.

I'll push your elbow up
So you can push me away,
And walk down the path you've been hesitant to tread.

Hold strong with that white flag,
Keep it high enough so I can see it in the distance
As I look back at you, up tall and unwavering.

White out won't get rid of the boys you once loved or the girls that broke your heart.

Tearing out the pages where you wrote to that one person won't make the words disappear; your veins translated into ink to make the words so. You have these people in your blood.

People come and go but you can't pretend they did not stay for some time. You can't erase their shadows in your photographs. You can't erase their impact on you.

Out of sight out of mind- really? You want to kid yourself into that?

Remembering hurts but someday you may want the old letters and photographs because someday you will move on and be thankful that whiteout couldn't cover where you felt a part of yourself let go.

Retrospect reminds you why specks remain but not the whole person, and why that is okay.

I won't erase you if you don't erase me. I'm sorry for the times I tried, for the times I really did believe

That if we didn't have forever, then we had nothing at all. I read the letters with heart, and I'm so thankful I left them whole.

Who am I to judge
How you decide to cope
With what breaks down
All that provides you hope?

Who am I to speculate
What you have to do
To get up every morning
And make it through?

Who am I to guess
Why you mask your pain?
We all hurt,
We all have shame.

Who am I
To sit back and observe,
When I should step up
And show you the kindness you deserve.

Who I am differs
From who I was.
Now I understand that
All you need is love.

Forgive who I was,
Embrace who I am.
I want to be there for you
In any way I can.

Who are you to advise who I should be?
Why have I been told to not be who I am?

Do not pursue teaching, you'll work a luckless and poor career. You'll devote your life to an occupation that won't put food on your table, you better marry rich Megan.

Do not love like you do, it's is overwhelming. It is too intense, too encompassing. It is the ocean- unpredictable and vast. Do not love me like that, I can't handle your love. Do not cry oceans, do not have streams down your cheeks. Do not feel, do not express yourself. Please don't.

Do not love who you want to love. It is too difficult to explain, accept and live with the fact that you may love someone with the same chromosomes as you.

Do not dance at your leisure, you cannot hold the beat or sway to the rhythm. There is a time and place for expressing your joys, remember that.

Do not cut your hair for it was so beautiful when in cascaded down your back.

Do not pierces your nose, people don't like metal in your nostril and god forbid you puncture a hole and stick a diamond in your pretty face.

Do not wear the short shorts, the baggy tshirts, the sandals with socks, the buns on the sides of your head, the face make up. You know those all mean you want it, you're lazy, you're unfashionable, you're a wanna-be, you're a try-hard who cares too much.

Who decided one day I couldn't be who I was born to be? Who decided I wasn't able to being myself and being okay as is?

Today I decided I will be the high school English teacher and I will change lives with my big heart and encompassing love. I will inspire through my educating hands and words. I will love who I love with all I have in my soul. I will dance in dead silence, in the rain and in the middle of a song. I cut my hair and it'll grow back. It always does. Metal in my nose made me no less beautiful, I was beautiful before it and I can be beautiful without it. I will wear the ******* shorts and let my thighs shake, I will do my hair as I please, I will wear the baggy tshirts because they are comfortable, I will wear and say and do and be whoever I want to be.

I am a combination of atoms and particles made from stardust and centuries before me. I am made of hope, acceptance, knowledge and ultimate love for myself and others. I am made of spontaneity and the daring risk to be who I am meant to be, I am infinite and you cannot bottle up stardust. You cannot contain me with your mere words.

Who are you to tell me who to be? Who am I to accept that? Who am I to let you tell me anything about my bones and brain, my mind and soul? Who am I?

You only wish you knew.

Now that I'm within your grasp, you would reach for anything else but me?

I tried keeping my love to myself and it left me empty-

Bottling up all I have left me heavy.

The weight anchored me to a quiet ocean floor beyond the sunlight.

So I took my love and divided it up in ways I can give to everyone-

The corny yet punny sense of humor, the hand to hold, the advice even when you don't want it, the adventure seeker, the invested listening, the lover, the 2 am "I'm thinking too much my heart might implode" texter, the hopeful disposition, the empathy, the person you can call only when you need.

I learned that keeping all my love kept me in the dark,

And giving it all to one left me eventually alone.

I learned that in order to float back up from the depths, I had to love far and wide;

I learned that this is how I must be to stay alive.

Today; 1
Me; 0

You win some and you lose some.
I won a day of issues, misunderstandings, confusion and annoyance.
I've lost the tolerance for and the will to work out problems with people who can't acknowledge their faults or make sacrifices for what I thought was a worthy friendship.
It hurts because I tried. I had the best of intentions and they left me with the worst of feelings.

Don't have a wishbone
Where your backbone ought to be,
They told me, so often.

See, wishbones are meant
For Thanksgiving dinners where
Two children break it

In half to see who
Gets the first turkey leg,
or something like that.

See, wishbones aren't strong.
They aren't reliable, strong
Enough to support you

When what you ought to
Do doesn't comply with what you
So dearly wish for.

If you lack backbones,
And have a wishbone for a
Spine instead, you should

Get to breaking that
wishbone right out of your mind
And body because

At the end of the day,
A backbone is all you have
When wishes aren't your

Reality. No,
A backbone will keep you up
Whereas a wishbone

Will break easily,
As easily as your heart
Will when your wishes

Do not come true. A
Backbone is something you ought
To have instead dear.

I used to think you couldn't love me as much as I needed,
But you did when you told me to leave and find someone else who would do the things you couldn't.

Love isn't always blatant or obvious, it isn't always being together and "I love you".

Losing you felt a lot like lost love,
But I suppose it just meant you loved me enough to not let me wait for you when you knew you couldn't be what I needed.

Thank you, I love you too.

Though your hand pulled the trigger,
You tied your own noose,
You emptied the bottle's contents into your hands,
You jumped and finally let loose,

Your hand could have been held,
Your voice could have been heard.
Your tears could have been wiped away,
Your demons could have been cured.

They say suicide is selfish,
At one's own will and action.
Why is it that until after the fact,
We finally give a reaction?

Life should be cherished
While still around.
Don't tell me some don't speak up,
Don't tell me they never made a sound.

We're all fighting battles
Day in and day out,
And in my heart of hearts,
These people didn't **** themselves on their own; I have no doubts.

Controversial and complicated,
Evoking and deep,
Taking your own life
Is not a solo leap

Into the unknown of death,
Afterlife and reincarnation;
It's a leap that's sometimes aided,
A path that's prepaved towards life's suffocation.

Yes, suicide is a solo act
Done on your own,
And reasons why people choose this fate
Will sometimes be left unknown.

Don't be a force behind a trigger though,
A force behind tying a rope;
Be a force of empathy and compassion,
A force of inspiring hope.

We can't save the world,
Or all the lost souls.
We can save our own actions though,
And keep in mind what we ought to always know;

You never truly know
What people are enduring,
What people are hiding,
Why people are hurting.

You never truly know
Who needs a simple smile or a grand gesture-
Whoever you help though,
Will always remember.

Therefore, with clichés aside
And pessimistic notions unheard
Please love and be kind and listen;
Their abilities to save and set free are one of the only things in this world I am assured.

We leave marks upon this world,
Without our consent and sometimes our conscious thought.
So try to leave behind marks that inspire and grow,
Marks that in the best light, cannot be forgot.

Though you pulled the trigger
And tied your own noose,
I wish you knew that path wasn't made for you,
And that will forever remain the truth.

I wish you knew that you weren't alone,
Even in your darkest hour.
I wish you knew that pulling that trigger
Didn't give you all the control and power-

It took a life worth living,
A soul worth saving and repairing.
It took your whole life to make it to that point,
And seconds to leave us all despairing

For closure, reason and hindsight
As to why you didn't reach for aid.
But even more so,
Why our own arms, now shaking by our sides, heartwrenchingly stayed.

I told myself I would write you out of me like ******* venom out of a vein-

With every letter upon the page it felt like I was pulling bits of you out of my bloodstream.

But then I wake up to streaked walls and I realized you're smeared everywhere-

You're a spilled ink bottle upon pages and pages of my life and you're bleeding into the rest of my book.

You're splattered across my walls and waking up to the stains within my room leaves me stained too-

I walk around seeing you in so much that I do.

My eyes are stained with the tint of your affection and I find it glimmering in every thing I see.

The splatters are still wet upon my walls, the ink hasn't dried upon my pages.

Everything I feel for you hasn't died yet.

How foolish was I to think that spilling my heart and ink about you would somehow get you to leave.

You're dripping from my eyes, from my pen and my veins.

I hoped this would get you out of me,

But every drip hits the ground and splatters out to the walls.

I haven't seen you in so long,

But I still see you stained upon my walls into what is a masterpiece of attempting to rid myself of you.

You're still in my ink, you're still in my veins.

You're now everywhere else too.

When can I escape you?

Sheepishly, pathetically still writing about you and it is just who I am.

I am the girl who clings until I see you clinging to someone else.

It was programmed into my DNA, my veins and skin to love you until I am assured you do not even think of me, not even by accident in your sleep.

It was programmed into my heart to pour out affection even if it meant spilling out like a full glass knocked off of a table, making a scene and a mess to clean up later.

I don't know any other way to move on than to write. I can't fathom making it out of this without pen and ink, sadly at your expense.

Ink is in my veins and you were once too.

I'll try bleeding you out on paper in hopes that some odd number of poems later, you'll be mere rhymes and word play.

Writing about you is all I have left and I hope it's all that is left of you in me.

I know you're far and can't be reached so I hope these poems and words are like pulling rocks out of my shoes and pockets so I don't feel weighted down by the thought that you've moved on and I haven't.

Don't mistake these words for an attempt to keep you around. I'm trying to get you out, one ink stain dripping out of a sliced vein at a time.

You shine brighter than stars on a moonless night.
You shine brighter than a lighthouse on the coast, guiding ships to shore.
You shine brighter than a firefly, emitting light with all his might,
You shine like an erupting volcano, bright from the core.

You shine like glass catching rays of sun,
You shine like a child on Christmas day,
You shine like a flashlight creating hands into shadow puppets for fun,
You shine like a sunset, upon the horizon, ready to fade.

You shine, you truly do.
You shine from your heart, through and through
Your entire body and being-
You're the kind of shine I've been seeking.

You must know that if I were not 20 and relatively broke,
I'd be on the next plane to you.

You need to know that I am a miserable texter and I always miss calls,
And missing you is the only thing I do better.

You should know that it is so true- distance makes the heart grow fonder,
Though I find myself only fond of the days that you were 10 minutes down the road and not 10 hours.

I ache for the long drives down silent roads at 12 am and the long coffee dates at 2 in the afternoon.

I ache for the time we had time at our leisure and it was not down to counting the days until I see you next.

You need to know that in my darkest moments, yes, a call will do. But I'm kidding myself if I think that's what I really need.

I miss having you by my side rather than on the other side of the country,
Where we are split by time zones and state lines.

I feel torn in two when I get the call about how broken you feel and there isn't a **** thing I can do other than hope the phone line somehow relays how much I really do care.

Trust me, I ache to be with you more than your actual heart aches. I have not met many people like you, people who get me and see me through.

I have not found the people I want to tell all to, people that I fit with.

I fit with you, and I need you to know that it's only fitting when we are together.