"...But truthfully I'd rather stare at your hands. I enjoy how they never shake the way mine do as though I've been carrying an object as heavy as my heart for too long; but they're always empty. I enjoy the way you wrap them around pencils, and coffee cups with a tight grip. I like the way you make it seem like you don't let go very easily. I used to rest in weak hands. I used to slip through the fingers of people who shook me off while I held on as though my life depended on them. I think the problem with the way I live is that I often never give myself the satisfaction of controlling whats mine. I'm not strong enough to make anyone stay. I'm not good enough for them to ever want to. I've lived with this reality making home in my mind but there's something about the way you looked at me this morning; kind of the way an artist looks at a finished canvas in total awe. Maybe that was the moment that I realized that I should probably stop staring at your hands and make love to your eyes. The way the light up as though you've been swallowing lightning bugs. The way you never hesitate to let them linger. The way their blue reminds me of the walls of my grandmas house that was built up with hands that look just like yours. I like the way you stare even when your blood isn't laced with alcohol. Almost as though I'm the painting that no matter how long you look at it; it still remains beautiful. The truth is, my walls are covered in love letters and poems written for someone I never knew... that was until I met you."

You are more than a masterpiece.

no any form of art was as priceless as her.

When I found you,
You were dancing with shadows,
An elegant tango with the demons inside.
Fluttering fire and sparking like embers,
Danger and beauty wrapped into one.
I tamed you, restrained you,
Let you gleam in the light.
But you weren't built for sunshine,
my creature of the night.
Love couldn't hold you, your heart mine no more.
So you could dance with your devil's behind closed doors.

I sit on the bench
Staring into nothingness
The music, all the way up
Others call it noise
I call it love
There is no more
But the memories
Laying on the floor laughing
Horror images dance across the screen
Secret kisses in the bedroom floor
Nothing tops the beauty of her smile
Her laugh is rare
But oh so wonderful
Chiming bells
Torn back to reality as the school fills
I sigh as her image fades from my mind once more