I've always winced at public affection.
But when I met you,
You seem to change my impression,
To "Aw" instead of "Ew.

They say love makes the world go round,
But this is just absurd, it's
Gravity that makes the world go round;
Love makes each spin worth it.

Dear Brain,

I think it's time we had a chat,
About this situation we're in.
I'm trying my best to be patient,
But alas, it's wearing quite thin.

You're a Ferrari that I cannot fuel,
An itch that I cannot scratch.
One day it seems you are ferocious,
The next, you're lazy and lax.

Now, I don't blame solely you,
For the fault is partly mine.
As I'm sure you don't appreciate
Me drowning you in cheap wine.

I have so much to thank you for,
And I'm sorry you're feeling blue.
But, I beg you; get your **** together,
Because we've got things to do.

Sincerely,
Everything below you.

I've always feared the little things,
Because they're what stole my heart.
At first they'd sprout it's tender wings;
Then tear them and off, and me; apart.

So, I learned to hide my fragile self,
Behind walls that no-one could breach.
My broken parts on the top of a shelf,
In a box, that no soul could reach.

But then, you reached a lone hand out;
Butterflies broke through my ribs.
Ten-thousand words that I longed to shout,
Rooted themselves on my lips.

The little things will always scare me,
That much may always stay true.
But you,
You crazy,
You utterly absurd
You punch-something beautiful ******.
There's no better feeling than being terrified by you.

Breath comes in desperate,
I'm weak at the knees.
I can feel my face burn,
At ten-thousand degrees.

I reach one hand out,
And our fingers are tied.
I feel silent fireworks
Start igniting inside.

Logic drifts away,
My sense; ship-wrecked.
In the midst of the storm,
My brain and mouth disconnect.

Words have escaped me,
Still, I've made it this far.
I won't leave without saying
All the things that you are.

I sat annoyed at my brain;
It's two halves were being stubborn.
For no matter how I searched,
No words could I summon.

I paced into the kitchen,
My mind was all a fluster.
My weary brain scanned the room,
For an idea that it could muster.

My search came to a halt;
I spotted the fruit in its bowl,
"Finally! At Last!" I thought,
"A subtle spark within my soul!"

I assessed the sight before me;
beautiful, ripe oranges.
I knew right then what I should do,
Er... something... to do with a lozenge? *******. Back to square one then, ey.

Realisation can be a harsh pill;
One I've always struggled to swallow.
The dose, in this instance, was to be
That my happiness isn't a reward.

It's not earned through great achievements;
Contentedness isn't product of valour.
It's not found in deep breathing and spiritualism,
It's not created by anything external.

No.
My happiness will always be through
consistent fidelity and belief in a purpose.
A purpose that simply has to be weightier
than the small stuff we're sometimes thrown.

It's the consistent drive:
To love.
To laugh.
To make laughter..
To put pen to paper.
It's a thousand-melodies,
On twelve piano keys.
It's the gnawing hunger inside of me,
That says it would be simply unacceptable
For me to leave this world,
Until I have brought forth
Everything I feel I have within me.

Happiness is always going to be a fleeting thing for me.
And that's alright.
Because I'm only just getting started.