Every day, every second,
Every moment,
I try shutting you out of my mind.

But, every day, every second,
Every moment,
I see you when I shut my eyes.

So, every day, every second,
Every moment,
You shut me behind these mirrors
Of faithful reflection.

And, every day every second,
Every moment,
I shut myself behind these bars,
Resisting myself from reaching you

I ain’t like those any other story
That you put on a shelf
And read whenever you please
I’m not the kind of story
That collects dust
And wait for someone to pick me up

I always try to find my way
In every way possible
In every human I meet
In every heart, bones
In every ink my pen produce
In everything I see

I am that kind of story

That kind you can’t leave in the best part
That kind you will cry with the worst part
That kind you can’t forget even if you tried
That kind of story you will be wondering why

I am that kind of story

I’m a best seller
A limited edition print
A classic
A nonfiction
A real romance


I have battled dragons
Pirates and Evil queens
Uses magic to conquer them
By all means

I am that kind of story

My intro is soft and sweet
Altered chapter
Read between the lines
I promise I’ll patch the conflict
And build suspense
For now enjoy my ******
Cause I’m still rewriting the ending

I am that kind of story

But you still put me on a shelf
Just to purely fill space in your library

Someone else has come around
And never put me down
He have seen the value I see in me
He go beyond the cover
See me as more than pretty words & poetry

And come back & find I’m gone
Not a trace of my ink, my page or my words
And you’ll realize
I was best story you’ve ever been apart of

because I am that kind of story.

A few weeks ago I was given flowers.
Pink, yellow, white and a touch of purple all in a pretty vase.
On my dresser they sat and everyday I saw them.
As time went by they started to turn brown.
They curled in on themselves like a baby in the womb
And soon after that they began to fall,
just like leaves on an October night.
A few of the flowers still remained beautiful,
they still had that sweet smell.
I picked their petals and saved their beauty.
I pressed them in a book to  preserve their looks
These petals sat on my dresser,
day after day.
Their color faded, like an artists painting gone wrong.
what used to be beautiful became nothing more than a mess,
I just wanted to save the beauty.
The beauty of the first kiss, the first love, that first time,
the feeling I wanted to save.
But there have been more kisses, another love, a new path.
And just as the flowers on my dresser died so sudden
my walls fell down, my heart opened up, my path changed.
Just yesterday I was outside with that new love
and I saw a flower growing in between the sidewalk cracks.
Beautiful, new, fighting for a chance.
It was there that I realized; beautiful things are not ours to take.
And if something wants to grow then it will find a way to grow.
All because a few weeks ago I was given flowers.