I don't
remember
the last time
I wanted a girl
to notice me like
the last time that she
complimented my smirk.

The
clouds
must be moving
in their own sweet time.

*But who are we
To think that clouds
Have to follow our clocks?

It was one of those crisp, clear nights
when the moon begs you to run away,
and the wind whispers,
"you should never look back."

So, please, take my soul by the throat,
and crack my ribs with a fist full of longing.
Bend my body over the promise of forever
and take me down with a narrative that is ours

for this life means nothing,

     when my time isn't broken by you.

you said you loved me,
a single lilac among others.
prettier, you said.
sweeter, softer.
you loved my delicacy,
sense of solitude,
my endearing growth.
however,
sprouts whither,
and I find
myself asking
why must you
always turn back
to smell
the roses.