i am sexually attracted to pencils.

there's a gap between your front teeth and between
your visions and plans and reality
holes in your personality, waiting to be filled up
and i wonder
what will become of you?

the dark crashes onto me like the bang of the drum

suddenly it's only you

i'm so sick of life

sick of living for you

except

i can't

but sometimes i wonder how it'd feel

to burn up in the sun and live my life as a shriveled up piece of skin

to float through space

see the stars and all the life

i could witness a million things

and lose you

but i wanna see the stars

but you refuse to tag along

plus nobody likes a backseat driver

which i know you'd be

and i feel like i'd love it once in a while

just look at you for a second instead of a brand new galaxies

i could taste all the elements

i could sit on a beach as it rains glass

and i don't need you and your stench

or your pretty green eyes

in a way you're a whole new world, too

all bottled up and i think it's fascinating the way no one's discovered you

but you know what you aren't really that cute

except when you really laugh

like, a genuine, real-life laugh

it's the sweetest thing i've ever heard

like a whole new form of communication

almost better than hearing a child speak 

but i like silence, too

i guess it's been a long day

maybe we should talk tomorrow

i'll meet you at the launchpad

(blue

your eyes are actually

blue)

"I don't want this to be awkward"
I agree but
I've just burned a journal full of you
so please don't look twice or I might start rewriting it
yes there you sit, a mere few between us
I guess only c, d, and e separate b and f
seriously though
isn't it ironic that we'd have english together
english, the very language we use to communicate
lately we haven't used it much
we've kept up through subtle glances and liking statuses
even so your voice still echoes in my head
we used to talk on the phone, too
(but I deleted your number)
and I almost see the little icon with your name
between my sister's troop leader and my best friend
and now you're here and I can tell you're nervous
(because you're doing that thing with your hands that I hate)
and I am too
but here we both are, in english class
not talking,
not signing,
hardly moving,
yet it is understood.