If I wrote a book about you
It would have 311 pages
No more
No less

It would have 16 chapters
Each one telling a story
Of how something made me fall
Slow enough so you couldn't see

One whole chapter would talk about the time
We locked glances from across the room
And I decided that your eyes
Were my new favorite color

Page 214 would have a coffee stain
From where I almost got enough nerve
To ask you how you feel
When we are together

Little do you know
That every word I've written
Belongs somewhere
In that book
And I will make room
For them all

Every time I see you
It's like jamais vu
It's still the first time
I saw your face
I still do that double take
You still take my breath away
But I still keep walking
Because I know
You are too good
For a dead poet
Like me

I used to orbit
High above the Earth
and get away from all
Of the trials
And tribulations
associated with life
But some force you have
Has gotten a hold of me
And I can feel myself falling
Faster and faster
As I succumb to your gravity
And I come crashing back to Earth

I'm not going to wait
For the girl of my dreams
Because she can't help me
Dreams are made for beds
And pillows and all those kinds of things
So I'll spend my time
Looking for the girl
Of my reality
Who can take me to a place
Where I don't need a bed
Or a pillows or those kinds of things
To be able to dream

So here I am
Floating down this river
A stream of consciousness
If you will
I didn't know how far
The current would take me
Away from thoughts of you
And the smell of your perfume
I met rough waters
In an area called
"Our final days"
A smooth sea
Never made for a
Skilled sailor
And in the middle
Of all of the waves
I go man overboard
Again

I could be cliche
And give you empty compliments
Strung together with the same words
That past lovers have used
But past lovers have come and gone
And I will make you mine
Without letting the words
Cute
Hot
Pretty
Beautiful
Drip off my tounge
Because I will not waste
Your time with these words
Whose letters contain nothing
My love for you is contained
In the twenty-seventh letter
of the alphabet
In a place
We know not of
(MTH 2/2/2014 8:43pm)

I hate you
I hate that everything I write
Can claim your name
I hate that as I type this
I can smell your perfume
On my favorite hoodie
I can still see us
In every broken mirror I pass
And even if I locked myself away
In a cold dark room
I would still be able to see
By the light in your eyes
That I remember
All too well

But what I hate you for the most
Is that you can drag me through hell
Twice
And I will still come
Crawling
Back
To
You
(MTH 2/2/2014 7:18pm)