You deserve someone who is going to
bring you your favorite dessert at 2am
because they think you'd like some.

You deserve someone who wants to
go to your favorite places, and eat your
favorite foods, even if they might be their
least favorite things to do, or eat.

You deserve someone who wants to
look into your eyes and try to guess
what you're thinking of while you
sit on the swings in the park and
sway to the tune of your favorite
Guns N' Roses song.

You deserve someone who is so
afraid of breaking you, that they
treat you even more carefully
than they treat themselves.

You deserve to wake up in the morning
next to someone curled up under your arm,
and she will smile and kiss your shoulder
and tell you that your favorite T-shirt is
even more comfortable than she thought.

You deserve to feel secure, and loved.
To feel that, no matter where you are,
you know someone is wishing she was
holding your hand.

You deserve to close your eyes and
lose yourself in the scent of her perfume,
even if she's miles away and left it on your
pillow the night before.

You deserve to be held, and to be loved,
and to feel wanted, every morning,
and every hour.

To feel as warm as the tea she'll
make you when you're sick,
and as calm as the song
she'll sing when you've had enough.

You deserve a lot of things,
like warmth, and love,
and happiness.
And I only wish I could be the one
to make these things come true.

I'm not a painting,
you can't frame me.
I'm not a statue,
you cant leave me be.

Don't string me like a row of lights,
I'm not made for that.
Don't leave me like a half read book,
only reading me when you want me.

I'm not a bec and call,
and if you thought I'd be like that,
you never really knew me at all.

I shut the lights and locked the doors,
don't bother knocking, I'm not home.
And even if I am, I won't be naiive
enough to open up the door again.

I'm scared, and I'm fragile,
so I'll probably never get better.
I hope it resonates in you;
that you've ruined me forever.

I've built the walls that held me,
and helped me fall apart.
And even when I try and knock them down,
I'm only breaking my own heart.

It's something I'll have to live with.
It's like a rock in my shoe.
I can't shake it off,
and it'll always be there.

Grey eyes lined with silver,
set on a frame of black.
With newspaper folded up tight,
I heard it's laced with crack - *******.

His fingertips are melted,
and her nails are peeling off.
He stuffed his cigarettes in his pocket,
but she took them when he wasn't looking.

I thought the beaty music was a falsity,
but she didn't lie when she told me.
I didn't want to be there,
just a face in their foggy window.

With lines of trying times on tables,
with the ash trays over flowing.
There was nothing left but lies and fables,
like when mom would sing me lullabies.

They don't remember that,
or stickers, or coloring, or-
just the slow patter on asphalt,
as they run from the lights and the sound.

But the tables are turning with concrete,
and their eyes are rolling back dark.
A star light of noise and asphyxiation,
will be such a salt, such a nice destination.

He was the shadow of a lonely man,
struck by fire, and sparks, and the shock
of a long lost ghost, of,
the girl he had loved.

He lost his touch as he had fallen,
and had swore he was tall with
the faults of his own, but,
he lost like a petal
left on it's own,
in the fall of his winter;
he never did bloom.

He left his beloved in
the scent of his clothes,
when she faded with dismay,
and he forged her signature
like the deed to his soul.

He built her a home,
a set of bones, like a chamber,
in his only chamber.

Beneath his metal chest,
of a soldier who had lost,
and his love in his heart,
caged in like a menegerie.

There, she was safe,
and she was kept tight.
A little memento,
that she couldn't fight.

A lock and a key to keep
her in place.
She was locked in his heart,
and she couldn't escape.

But, alas, she grew restless,
and knew she must go.
But he kept her in place,
in his chamber, her home.

Let me take your name,
and stamp it on my hand.
Let me take your story,
and thread it in my sweater.

Let me freeze your photograph,
the colors of your eyes.
Let me hold your scars and palms,
and compare the lines to mine.

I'd like to steal you quickly,
and place you in my book.
Let your heart come to your sleeve,
and only let me look.

I know you love honesty,
you rub it in your hands.
You carry all your stories,
in the pocket of your jeans.

I'd love to listen to them,
watch them paint your lips,
that will never tire me,
it will keep me hooked.

Please, just let me trace you,
even if it's quick,
I'd love to capture such a pretty thing,
before it leaves my finger tips.