Talking to you is like eating oodles of noodles
With a spoon

she was not fragile like a snowflake.
she was fragile like a bomb.
and i didn't know which was scarier-
                                                        ­  her explosion or her calm.

i used to dream in black and white,
grays blending together the scenes that
spin spin spin
until i can't differentiate black from white.
i dreamt about shriveling flowers and endless hallways
and never being able to scream;
and then i met you.
suddenly i was dreaming in color,
a luxury i thought would never come to fruition,
flowers popping and life breathed back into trees.
i never knew how beautiful it was to have someone hold you at 3am,
to kiss your bruises and tell you your scars are angelic
even though the way you acquired them isn't.
i never knew how beautiful it was
to dream in color.

In the small hours of the morning,
Over the putter patter of rain,
There is a girl who hears them speak ,
And gladly does refrain.

She could not see what the world saw,
She sees not in black and white,
But in a vibrant vivid shade,
Radiating with light.

Music was her therapist,
The baseline was her friend,
And the chorus was a fantastic day,
You didn't want to end.

Because even on the coldest nights,
Music was always there,
And even in this mad mad world,
Music was always fair.

It was there from start to finish,
To when the day was done,
Through sleet, snow and wind,
Or on a dazzling island in the sun.

And as this girl continues,
But does not know what to say,
She can just sigh and know,
It is time to press play.