I think you leave little bits of yourself in the trees
I can always see you in them
Your energy is constantly intertwining with nature
And when I'm in nature it's almost like you're there; in the mountains, the trees, the wildflowers.
It's the tsunami waves of missing you
It's the warm sunny days where everything is alive and singing, "He's all around you, just look."
It's that feeling that you get when you're on a mountain looking up at the sky and realizing how small you really are.
You're the boy who plays with the moon, and I'm the girl watching, mesmerized by the way you two move.  
It's that moment when you love nature so much that it crushes you, because you know that you don't belong.
We are built to destroy, and the world deserves so much better than that.
I know I am a disaster, but you make me feel less evil than I've made myself out to be.
I feel more like a tree when I'm with you.

Kaleidoscope love scenes may cause motion sickness, so be careful because I've been slipping silver-lined sentiments into your tea.
Streams of honey pour from my lips, infused with good intentions and "I'd love it if you'd stay," undertones to really sweeten things up- but not too much, I know how sugar makes your head spin.
All of the late nights we've stayed up talking have made the bags under my eyes perfect for brewing and i'm ready to pour myself out to you; that little tea *** short and stout has nothing on my porcelain frame.
Tea cup collarbones made for you to drink from. Our tea party wouldn't be complete without snacks, and I hope soul food is what you're looking for. I don't want small talk, I want the kind of talk that makes me feel small compared to the possibilities. Lets take note from Alice and her glass vile's labeled "drink me", and drink up as we watch the universe expand before our eyes.
All of the love i'm trying to give you could easily be compared to most hallucinogens, because you make my world flip-flop in the most beautiful way.
So, would you care to see what I see? Turn me into a cup of tea, and when i'm done i'll scream and shout words of "I love you," so tip me over and pour me out.

He wears his solivagant demeanor like armor; your battle of love will never scratch his silver plated chest, your swords will never pierce the walls inside his ribcage called, "home" Home is where the heart is and he flatlined a long time ago; broken heart syndrome only has only 11 documented cases of death, but something snapped inside that boy that day and I think about how they never mention that you can die on the inside, too.
He says cigarettes are a way to manipulate time, that sand is just sand if you don't know how much you have left in your hourglass, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
You could've called us time travelers, we were making best friends with the moon and the stars as we breathed in the promise of calm, an ashen beach lay beneath us. Sand is just sand, after all.
The confessions of an insomniac, the stream of unfiltered emotion laying open, so vulnerable- how terribly sad it looks in the light.