I'm in the mood to write, though about I do not know.
Words have weighed down on my tongue, I need to let them go.
I'm in the mood to write, though I don't know what to say.
These thoughts are trapped inside my hands, I want to throw them away.
I'm in the mood to write, but I don't know how I feel.
Sometimes it's happy, at times it's sad but I don't know which is real.
I'm in the mood to write, but the page is remaining blank.
I can't control my emotions anymore, for that I have you to thank.
I'm looking out at the city, the streets are quiet tonight. Maybe it's the brightness of the sky but I'm in the mood to write.

My biggest fear
Is that I'll wake up in 10 years
And still miss you

I'm sorry I can't get anything out of my mouth without it sounding like I'm sorry. Even my "I love you"'s sound like apologies when I'm trying to confess it as though the feeling hasn't been rotting inside my chest for the past few months. I'm sorry that the welcome mat looks like an entry prohibited sign, I promise if you squint your eyes enough it looks a little more inviting. I'm sorry I'm always the first one out of bed in the morning, I've never been good at making people feel like I'm going to stay and I'm not going to allow you to get used to me in the sheets with you. I'm sorry that I flinch when you don't pour enough ***** in my glass, but I'd rather be numb by the last sip than the third serving. I'm sorry if I keep cutting the conversation short, your voice reminds me of him and it rings in my ears like the sound of someone telling you they don't want you anymore; and well, that's what he did. I'm sorry the bag under my eyes keep revealing my lack of sleep, but I've never been good at being alone in the dark and it's hard for me to find the courage and ask you to stay the night. I'm sorry I keep saying I'm sorry; I've  been weighed down with guilt for every pain I've ever felt and I'm just hoping that maybe you'll see why I write poems that can't be read out loud.

I don't know how to tell you that I have found the love of my life in the corner of my hospital bedroom. He stands patiently. Watches me eager. Feeding me his hand-me-down depression. He could make me feel at home in a roofless shelter, make this rain feel like soft kisses along my skin, he could make razor blades feel like feathers. I have never known the true definition of flirting until seeing the hunger for my soul in his eyes. I don't know how else to tell you that I've found the love of my life. All I can say is that death has been begging me to stay the night, I've been choking on apologies. These days he's the only one who knows how to hold me.

There's something about the time of year when the leaves start to fall that makes my eyes go from clear blue to stained glass. Something about morning breath that makes me wish I could stop breathing until I remember that no one will love me even if I'm under a headstone. There's something about the wind, something about a whisper that sounds like it's begging me to leave; but when I fear the power of gravity after I tie the rope, I feel like death is trying to tell me I'm not ready yet. There's something about the frost bite on my hands that has me wishing there was something more for my empty palms to grab hold onto. Something about the way the cold makes my lips tremble and my voice crack, but no one hears a **** thing. Something about the way I'm looking for eyes to melt in and restore the life in mine. There's something about the way the doormat makes me feel anything but welcome and how the slammed door yells at me that I should of never come in. Something about winter and the absence of you, makes me feel like I wasn't meant to see December.

I've never wanted someone so much it felt like all I was ever doing was wait for them. There's always a designated area, always an assigned seat, always a reserved table. I still don't know what my boundaries are to loving you, but so far you've taken up my entire train of thought. The cart that was filled with my sanity is filled with the thought of wanting you; and I'm starting to lose my mind. I have no control over the route of these copper tracks. I don't know when I'm expecting to find myself laying beside these rails wishing things would have gone a different way. There's no heads or tails in the gamble of love. I've put my heart on the table, waiting to see what you're willing to lose and it won't be as much as I'm willing to give; but that's just my luck. I'm never the one who walks out with the better end of the bargain, I just want something to be mine. The something being you, the mine being me. Together in a game that I can make easy to play. A train ride that lasts long enough for us to be able to pinch ourselves and it still be real. A reserved area that no one gets the power of overtaking. I'm in for the long shot, I'm willing to risk it. Just come down to the station and and buy a one way ticket.

They all talk about loving with all their heart as though it's enough to contain the way their whole body feels. I love you with everything that I am; every good morning, every goodnight.  I love you with the scars and birthmarks that make home on the surface of my skin. I love you with everytime the corners of my mouth can't help but turn upward and my hands can't help but pinch my legs to make sure all of this is real. I love you with every finger that grips onto your shirt when we kiss, I love you with every kiss I plant on your neck when we drown ourselves in bottles of alcohol and get high on each others laughter. I love you, I love you, I love you. I never want to stop loving you. I've never felt anything like this before, and if you leave; I fear I'll never feel anything again.