i always want what i can't have
and when i can have it
i don't want it.
it's a void i've been trying to fill.
i love the chase, the uncertainty.
i'm not ready to settle down.
i want to run free & make mistakes.
and when the time comes for love,
i will not be ready.
i don't want to be.
i don't want to spend my life preparing,
i want to live it.
but when the time does come
i want a man who's insane and makes mistakes.
i want someone to be adventurous with.
not by expediting on some journey,
but by making an adventure out of every situation.
i want to dance in the middle of a grocery store to a mediocre pop song.
i want to scare ducks instead of feeding them
i want to go to hidden cafes and find the best coffee in the city.
i want to stay in and make spaghetti.
i want to laugh and love with a whole heart
but as for now,
i cannot give you that.
for i do not have my heart
i'm still chasing it.
i know it's somewhere out there
i just have to find it.
i know it will be an adventure.
so when you are ready for me
and i am ready for you
chase me.

you've allowed your walls to be built so high
they started growing ivy
and although there's beauty in those vines
i'd love to see the gardens blooming within

the thing with feelings
(especially mine)
is
they are always fluctuating.
i need you, i hate you.
i want you, i despise you.
never the same, never consistent.
but,
what i feel for you
is more than a thought,
a desire,
a feeling.
i love you
and that will never change,
never fluctuate,
never disappear.
know this:
i love you
as a verb
not a feeling.

i handed you my heart with eager eyes
you gently hold it and it feels warm
(i think it's love)
you start to grasp it more firmly so it hurts
(i think it's discipline)
and you squeeze and you squeeze
until it shatters in your palm
(i thought it was an accident)
but you just brush your hands
down your faded old blue jeans
(the ones i picked out)
and walk away.
when it finally hits me,
what you did
i laugh
because although you crushed me,
you have remnants of me embedded in your hand.
when i finally begin to pick up the pieces
i see your rugged, callused hands extend once more.
not a scratch, not a scar.
i gathered all i could
but you will always have parts of me
down the the sides of your faded old blue jeans.

I decided to drink coffee each time I was sad
but now I find myself shaky and jittery
I cant hold my hands still
because the caffeine took over my body
and left my soul where it was