Friday night apartment visits dressed in bed sheets
with safety pins scraping against bare backs
center stage: the hookah, the piles of *****,
and always you
this is where it all began I think, pointing to a wall, a floor
I pour another drink, the floodgates fail
I can no longer stare and bite my tongue like before
the words spew out one by one

shutup
I love you
I'm going to get that ******* main floor apartment downtown and
it'd be so ******* rad if I woke up to you every morning
and I could write about how we ****** six times before class and
how your eyes were a new shade of green on October 14th and
how I think sometimes you aren't actually real or
how I think you made a huge mistake picking me
another shot

shutup
I love you
I just wish I was a dancer and yes I'm crying about it
because the way you make me feel can't even be put into words
let alone on paper
I just want to writhe around a room for half an hour
and show you how my mind feels on saturday afternoons in your arms
oh why can't my body do the talking for once
another shot

shutup
I love you
Lets just spend the rest of tomorrow in bed, **** what I said
maybe **** me too if you want
I'd be okay with anything really lets sleep, lets stare at a wall
lets talk about our dreams and how I didn't see you coming at all
just give me something good to write about
once I somehow manage to get away from you and back home

shutup
I love you
don't let me go back home

If you could just stop moving and talking
so I can stare in your eyes and finally
have that moment to soak up the fact
that I finally did something right in my life
that'd be great.

Two days later and I'm born again
I guess that's all you need
a little vacation from reality

****** in like I promised myself I wouldn't
but i feel the words slipping off my tongue
as each day passes
I know I've said it time and time again
but god I've never felt as good as I'm with him

I have become the cliche I hate
But when I'm alone
I know I love it

I am long endless nights spent locked inside with ***** bottles and strangers with running noses

I am hot summer days wearing jeans instead of shorts because the first rule is to not let anyone know and the second is to make double sure

I am the doctors test subject in an empty field far away from where he told me he'd take me

I am my fathers daughter, but I'm afraid if he came back he wouldn't recognize me any longer.

What is a home:
filled with friendly faces and lighthearted conversations
a place to rest your head at the end of a long day
where you warm your toes, shed your woes
oh how I wish I had one of those

All I want to do is sit and write anything like before
cheesy romance ******* about how your touch makes me feel
or the way your eyes change from hazel to green
depending on how the sunlight hits it
but
nothings coming out
nothings making sense
everything you've done to me is too good for my words
too good for their ears
even though every ******* moment is engraved into my eyes
and replayed every second I catch my breath
or loose the butterflies.

Two hours I've sat perched on my bench,
my family waiting to drown out the inevitable
click clack of my typewriter
because with a smile like mine they know the writing never stops
but this time it never comes
you just have to experience it for yourself.

come sit in the booth with us at the bar
watch us nod and bob and weave to each others voices
or one anothers favourite songs played on cheap guitars
by singers that are sub par.
Experience whatever we should call this,
an amazing friendship with the added bonus of benefits
the beginning stages of what I hope isn't love but dare I deny it
the one person who might end up destroying me
but for now he's just the reason for my torturous
writers block.