She wanders,
guided by her lost soul.
She spills arts,
coming from her pure heart;
She writes words no one can understand,
yet she speaks it like it was kept in her mind
for so long, just waiting for someone to find it.
She is a masterpiece of her own,
but she has a heart of stone.

I swear to God, I could be the best **** thing you have ever had.
I want nothing more than to drink coffee with you while tangled in sheets and to grab your hand while it is still warm from the cup, and feel it wrap around my small and dainty fingers. I want your bare skin against mine in the most innocent way. I want to stain your cheeks, hands, and lips with the prints of my favorite shade of lipstick. I want to dance around the living room and laugh as we trip over our own shoes because God knows we were both cursed with two left feet. I want you to be the one that fills the empty void that has been created by all of those that have run away in the past, taking with which they have touched. I want to listen to your heartbeat until it becomes my favorite lullaby. I want to find adventure with you in something as simple as going to the grocery store. I want to fall in love with you the same way I fell in love with the moon when I was only ten years old. I want to hear I love you’s in the tune of your voice so many times that I begin to believe it. I want to make your hair a mess while doing the opposite with your life. I want to be the lucky one that gets to kiss your neck and hold you close when you’re silently falling apart. I want to show you that the sparkle in your eyes shines brighter in my world than any star in the sky hanging above our love-drunk heads.
Just kiss my cheek and twirl my hair while I write poems and novels and love songs about the ******* beauty of your existence.