i could grow daisies in your lungs
for they are filled with the purest air
that sometimes we share
i could grow tulips from your head
for you have imagined more fields than you can fill
maybe the one we count the stars in
i could grow roses from your eyes
for they would just add to your rosy vision
rosy enough to make me seem like enough
i
(however)
could grow nothing from your heart
for those fields have been over plowed
for the waves of your chestnut hair don't reach
for i haven't a clue what flower is worthy
worthy of trying
trying to prosper where other's have failed you
i fear my love not being enough
enough to wield blooms for you
for now
i hope daisies are enough

hi,

attached you'll find my heart
and my hopes
my "hopefully they'll accept"
&
my "hopefully they'll mail their's next"
i doubt the latter
but expect the former
you'll have to keep my love
it's got nowhere to call home
thanks for letting me waste your time
i hope you make use of this spare love
i had nowhere to spend it

sincerely,
a nobody looking for a somebody

i started drawing
because my dad used to
i started writing
because my dad always did
i started watching football
so we could watch together
and so we did
every sunday
and the occasional monday
but slowly
every game
turned into every other
and eventually none
he stopped asking to see my work too
and i stopped trying to share

i am seventeen
my dad is thirty-five
so is my mother
do the math
my mother is nuts
and my dad is me
or i am my dad
i'm not really fond of either
neither seems to know me
but both will say they do
in fact
mother thinks she knows me better than i do
she loves to tell me how i feel
she loves to tell me how i am
she loves to tell me who i am
and who i ought to be
my dad isn't as bad
he's just grasping at the past
the past where i tried my best
my best to get his attention
my best to get his love
he's stuck holding onto thirteen
i'm sorry
but i am simply me
myself
and apparently everyone else

love poems about you
would not be so mystical
i can't find constellations in your eyes
your smile doesn't remind of spring
you haven't freckles speckled about like petals
your kisses don't come with fireworks
you don't make my lungs collapse

love poems about you
would be about the more mundane
the playing with your hem when you're nervous
the collection of pens "just in case"
the spirals you line with daisies
the kisses that follow with giggles
the way you fill my lungs with a life they hadn't had before

i can't sleep
so i tried to count sheep
but they all turned to roaches
so i opened my eyes
and tried to wear them out
by staring onto my room
but shadows turned to people
so i closed my eyes
and i tried to clear my mind
but it ran amiss
so i opened my eyes
and tried to read myself to sleep
but words were just ink
so i closed my eyes
and tried counting sheep

my brother ran from home
no one noticed among the chaos
every out of place step just mixed with the others
while i passed around laughs with friends
while i was blissfully unaware
my dad went to the police
they didn't ask for a picture
so everyone dropped their jobs
and piled into cars
and we drove
and drove
and we walked
as far as we could
and then we walked some more

my brother ran from home
to a home built on lies
filled to the brim with unwanted kids
until they dragged him back
and we lined ourselves up
and stood behind tears
and i watched
i watched them bury the truth
at least they used smaller shovels