I'm an old soul,
in a valley of new-aged minds.

I hide behind long tresses of dark, curly hair,
and a mind-blowing swirl of brown, green, and grey eyes.

I listen to classic rock,
and steal liquor from my mom.

I hate society,
And I am that crazy, political, hipster chick.

I like vintage things, meaningless things,
and even very broken things.

I love clothes that are to big for me,
and can only drink milk if it's in a mug.

I like the kind of weather that flushes your cheeks,
And causes you to pull your jacket on tighter.

I like these things because they are what they are,
and they make me who I am.

it's those nights,

where the nightmares truly seem to get the best of us,

and the dark seems more inviting then usual,

that we come to realize,

it might not get better from here.

c.r.k.

it's nighttime and i am laying back in bed.

my pillows are cotton and they rub against my neck as i try to get comfortable. i never really do. i play with the loose thread of my comforter, and wrap it around my finger until the tip turns purple, i wonder for a moment, what would happen if i let the feeling spread until the top of my pointer is useless? suddenly, i hear your favorite song play in my head. it is soft. soft and rolling and it gives me the same feeling as my thread wrapped finger. i feel weightless and useless just like the crimson, shaded pad of my pointer. your song grows louder while everything else grows more quiet. i didn't know it was possible for this amount of silence to exist, it felt as if my skull grew transparent and all my thoughts began floating around the room like tiny lulling clouds. your song is drifting into the ceiling, i hope it floats through and up and up all the way to the moon. then it will settle there amongst the rubble and it will play it's rolling melody for all the stars. maybe they'll all fall asleep and it will be completely dark and completely quiet. the song just grows louder instead, so loud it begins to ring in my ears like a symphony of tiny, little bells. it rises and rises and i wrap the thread tighter and tighter and i squeeze my eyes closed and i beg. i beg for the song to stop, but it just grows louder. the bells reach their crescendo and it's then that i realize that the thread was not wrapped around my finger but my heart, and i was painfully, irrefutably, regrettably in love.

the song finally stopped.

Momma always told me fairytales had happy endings.
Well, she was wrong
I'm not beauty, I'm the beast.

i'm holding my breath
because
it hurts to breathe

I tried to stop it,
slow it down at least,
but the feeling grew.

Now, I'm heartbreakingly in love with you.

you blocked my number,
so i deleted yours, and by deleted,
i meant that i copied it onto a sticky note and stuck it behind my bed,
because i know one day i'll call you,
you won't answer,
but i'll still call.

i love how you could make me feel like everything,
and nothing
all at once