He makes his rounds bounding around town between cobblestones
And I am last I never mind but I am always last
And you'd feign quelle surpris at how long I would wait for this uncourtly gentleman
Although that is a reaching description because he totters between gentle and aggressive
Just the way I like
We have nothing but the way we have everything
It's nothing permeably enviable but oh if you knew I swear you'd just seethe
Neither of us belong to the world and the world does not want us
We are far too content in our miseries to fathom fear of change
I have others and he has his but I know his body aches for mine thousands of thoughts away
I don't know all the triggers that makes his mind wander to me just as he will never know that when I smell new rain on old earth it's he who comes first
But I think just knowing that there are things that bring him back to me warms my ever pumping heart until the worlds sees fit to cease it's beat
And with that said I hope he's there to care and I am not last forever

I filled your veins with water and wrote you down on white paper so I didn't have to read you back anymore. Girl's got a suicide pact across the pacific and all I can do is taste the dust.
2. There is a certainty in the way your body moves out time with itself when you think too much.
3. You told me you wanted to be a saint but you were too afraid of the sight of god. When you asked what belief tasted of they told you: fresh buttercream and a wasp's sting. We didn't see you for days.
4. There is a certain tension and it only exists between the bends of girl's legs and the concrete which holds them stronger than any arms could.
5. I want to run every cliche by you and watch you hold hands into the night with it instead of me.
6. Some people can be replicated entirely out of candle wax.
7. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO ******* SELF AWARE ALL THE TIME. You can't even watch yourself.
8. You know you're a halfway house of cells and who are you to say I can't keep up?
9. Say would you tell me if I was just a little off key?
9. Would you tell me the answers to the questions I never asked?
9. Would you play that evening differently if you could turn back the hands that bind you?
10. I burnt you a bridge and sent you the fire like we could ever fill a room with your god. I want to ask him what he thinks of our sins.
11. There is a fluidity in the way your words turn back on themselves.
11. There is a fluidity in the way you turn back on yourself.
11. There is a fluidity in the way people leave doors open for you.
12. I don't think I'd even know what to say to you if I saw you.
13. I only feel comfortable on even numbers.
13. I guess I made myself an odd number.
13. I don't know what we're left with.
13. This is not how we were supposed to end up.
14. I wish you could see the holes you left in the back of my throat.
15. Loving you was as easy as leaving the lights on.
16. And that walk to your parents house was a floodlit symphony like you capitalised every word of every passage I wrote about you with
17 reasons to stay.
And 18 to leave.

The first was the last time I shook like a guard rail and you were a concrete staircase, and I swear, I ain't never seen nothing like you yet.
The second: my fist on your name. But I am here now, like a lit splint bursting into flames, you won't ever find a ghost like me again babe.
The third. And you just want to **** everything. I said you just want to **** everything in your Berlin Wall house.
Your girl's got a bullet hole for a mouth and when it rains, it really does pour round here.

I haven’t seen you in four months
I haven’t seen you in four months and now it’s starting to hurt
I thought I’d become immune to you
But I just saw a photograph of you again
And I think I’m coming down with something
Something just doesn’t feel right
You’ve not been in my head for a third of the year
But I saw a guy who looked like you today
And it took all of my strength not to run up and kiss him
To hold his hand like I once held yours when we made origami
I don’t think you’re ever really going to leave me
Just like the tattoo on your leg
You showed me the ink just before I left
And I told you it was stunning
But it wasn’t as stunning as you
You are more than skin deep beauty
You are bones and scarred knees
And skeletal structure
And cheekbones to die for
And whenever I felt like dying
You reminded me why I needed to keep waking up
I sugar coat you like ****
But you were always so sweet to me
I keep tasting you in the three spoonfuls of my tea.

To the boy I saw at work today,
the one so beautiful,
my heart
stopped,
what happened to our fairy tale ending,
the part where you give me your number and sweep me away?
Maybe I was just so
blinded
by your watercolour eyes,
of blueish grey,
your large, steady hands that brushed against my own pleading two
when you payed for your drink,
that brushed against my bare back,
against my stomach,
against my cheek
in the very same moment,
that I saw the stars that you didn't.
I was sure I saw something buried in the creases of your smile,
something that said
"I'm yours."
All
mine.
But something told me otherwise when you walked away,
blessed the rest of the room with those watercolour eyes
and gave them all the same promise.
To you I was just a
faceless vending machine,
to me you were
everything I've been longing for.
My pathetic
pictures
I paint with people like you,
like the boy at the bus stop,
like the boy in the cafe,
like every boy who ever took my breath away,
are as realistic and accurate
as the finest Dali or Picasso.
But to me,
you are all more real,
more beautiful,
than any work of art.
More even than my own
pathetic
paintings.