i see you standing there
unreachable
untouchable
untasteable.
we sit here with our monstrous separation,
alone
writing our futile love stories
on paper napkins
and after we are done,
all that remains
of our coffee shop romances,
our abandoned dreams,
is the ashes and dust
of one-hundred frigid fireplaces.
even though
they weren't quite so hopeless
as we guessed.
we encourage
when maybe we are the ones who need encouragement.
we belittle
when maybe we ourselves have been belittled.
herein lies a lesson in division
in solidarity
in passion
in apathy
in futility
in conquering the ******* stars.
i stand here
as i stand there
and you are the gap
that lies between myself.
one for one,
a sobering realization that inebriation still isn't everything.
remove the labels we cast
and everything is uniquely similar
we are people!
unity already exists,
we just told it not to.
similarly unique,
yet not individually so.
nothing happens;
without its first prompt.

let me know
when you come home
because i'm tired
tired of waiting
tired of watching
tired of just sitting on the sidelines
tired of your flirtatious boredom
tired of showing you all you need is here
and watching as you're hurt
again
and again.
so i'm sorry
but i cant stay awake any longer
so close the door softly
when you come inside
kiss my forehead
and try not to wake me
as you settle in bed
just let me know when you're ready
to come home

i'm
sorry
that i'm not smart enough
to change
even though
i said
i would.
human nature
is one hell
of a drug.

the world is waking up
to a new light
a rejuvenating warmth
spring
that perfect temperate time
without the searing heat of summer
and winters frigid climes
a beautiful renaissance in nature
green buds sprout from tips of trees
15 years before
your gentle breezes
and light, warm air
cradle me
as I come into the world

Love a girl who writes,
          and live her many lives;
          you have yet to find her,
          beneath her words of guise.

Kiss her blue inked fingers,
          forgive the pens they marked.
          The stain of your lips upon her—
          the one she can't discard

Forget her tattered memories,
           or the pages others took;
           you are her ever after—
           the hero of her book.

'goodbye'
is such a hard
concept
to grasp