We're
         falling
                in
                   love;
And the rest
is just
science.

1.
your eyes are like stars,
and i like stars.
that's what i told you
the night at the carnival.
honestly,
i just wanted you to make me forget your eyes.
you were supposed to make me remember your lips.
or maybe your hands.
why your eyes?

2.
a scarred wrist
entangled in mine.
beautiful, dark eyes
found my own.
a wrecked story
including chapters
of us both
unfurled right before us.
pitiful kisses were displayed
in the shadows.
weak embraces
wrapped me up
and held me tight.
a solid cry
pleaded for me
as i walked away,
again.

Silence is the sound you hear when you hit your head
A dog barking in some distant universe
It’s the faint, constant hum of car engines
The crunching snow under your boots
Silence is popping your knuckles
A buzzing street light
Branches scratching in the wind
Yes there is such a thing as silence, even in this sleepless city
You’re just too busy fiddling with your cellphone to appreciate it

To me,
you're the whisper I find in snow.
You're the emphasis on my "T's"  
You sing me stardust.
You scream me the sun.

I am guilty of projecting. I will turn you into a goddess
in my mind to deal with the anxiety of
the fact that you might actually like me. I will like you back,
to an extreme; to the point where it's scary,
so that you'll stay away from me.
"Oh yea, watch out for that one. He's crazy."

Vain girls are attracted to it.
They like the way I paint them in my dreams.
As if fulfilling their own of becoming some sort of
Aphrodite. They build their confidence off of my idolatry.
I've seen it go to their heads.
It makes me kind of sick.

I will use you. The fantastical female;
my muse. You inspire my more neurotically infused
writings, and give fire to my self-abuse.

A few times, I've gotten the one I desired. Always through my words.
Forced to deal with discrepancies between fantasies and the truth, I fall apart.
Invariably, they were emotionally damaged;
prone to crying. I'd give them my shoulder and wrestle with the thoughts
that I'd fallen for a girl so much like my mother.
**** you, Freud.

Now I know better, but I can't fight my nature.
So I've embraced it. Taken it to new heights. Turned it into an art form.
Mentally magnified mistress, watch this:
I will take everything you've ever said (which I cannot forget)
and reflect it back at you through my poetic psychotic lens
Freaky, is it not?

But it's also kind of fun.
If you can appreciate the irony,
then I think you might be the one.