One day
i’ll stop stealing plastic diamond rings
that are too big
i’ll stop dreaming of pink sailboats
that sail in purple seas
i’ll stop thinking in third person
that confuses me
i’ll stop drinking v8
that’s “good” for me?
i’ll stop eating pumpkin pie
that’s “bad” for me?
i’ll stop dying my hair
those ugly colors
i’ll stop pronouncing Hallie’s name wrong
that makes her mad
i’ll stop writing  letters
that always end up unanswered
i’ll stop writing text posts
that no one will read
One day i’ll stop breathing
i’ll stop eating
i’ll stop drinking
i’ll stop waking up
One day i’ll go to sleep
and never see your face again.

i think the thing i love most about you
is how you
write
you do it randomly
passionately
with a stern face and a blue pen
your hand writing is raw
inconsistent
relatively illegible
and beautiful
your words are real
thoughtful
worth reading
and in the end
when you run out of space
(i know you never run
out of ideas)
or when your hand cramps
you turn the page over
flex your fingers
and write messy "n's"
and crooked "y's"
untill you're interrupted
by that stupid boy who only loves
you for length
not content
(and excuse this ink
i know its
nothing
like your
sweet
blue
somethings).

i was looking for you
but found a girl named Cacy instead
except im not entirely sure how she spelt it
maybe Kasey?  Casey?  Kacie?
She told me she wanted to start going by Cass (Kass?)
though
i told her that i knew a girl named Cass
and even though it was a lie
she couldnt tell
or maybe she could
but either way she said that the name
"Cass"
was a "fuckable" name,
a name that was bound to
"get some"
and i had nodded with that sheepish grin
you hate
and started to shake
with that embarassing nervousness
that annoys you
and she held my hand and lit a cigarette
she told me that she hated smokers
but that it "blurs the edges"
i told her that i was all edges
she asked why
and so i told her about you
and how i was looking
but how i had found her
and how i very much preferred to have found her instead
she gave me a cigarette
and i coughed because you know i have asthma
i said thanks and called her Cass
and she had smiled because i think she was starting to grow
quite fond of the sound of the name
i coughed out my name
and she told me about how Peter Pan was "hot" and how wendy was the
biggest "****" ever
we laughed
and we smoked
we talked
and we shivered
we went inside
and we slept
and i didnt cheat
even though Cass was quite fuckable
i slept
and dreamt of her rather than you
and woke up much happier than i have ever been.

she told him to be careful
with words like that
he's bound to steal
no break
a few hearts

she told him every stanza
brings a new girl with star crossed eyes
and an easily won heart
and each period ending his new poem
equals a box on his porch
with some poor girl's beating heart
bleeding through
staining the door mat

and each stained door mat
is just some girl's
lost hopes
and swooning mind

and so she warned him to be careful
for words mean so much
more to those with light hearts
and she knew that his words were nothing to him
but patterns of the keyboard
with a shift key
some punctuation thrown in.

i imagine
it's morning
that wonderful time
where you aren't really awake
but you know you aren't dreaming anymore
where everything's a bit blurred
and only the important things are
impeccably clear

i imagine
that on this morning
the blinds are closed or open
i can't tell
everything's a haze
the cat's probably asleep by our feet
the sheets might be orange
they might be red
but your eyes
they're crystal clear
that wonderful light green
so different from the seas of brown i'm used to
then that little smirk
that's always on your face
those lips
those collar bones

i imagine
that in this moment
the little infinity signs
i've traced a thousand times
are real
tattooed onto your chest
the smirk is only a smile
for me
those eyes are only crystal clear
because they're staring right into my eyes
and those lips are mine for the taking

i imagine
that this morning
is real
that is lasts forever
that it will happen one day
it's times like these
that i imagine
you're mine
all the ******* time.

i wonder what its like to be your breath
to be there with you
to feel the tickle and tease of your lips
every time
you exhale

i wonder what its like to be your finger tips
to trace little invisible insignias on some girl's soft skin
to feel the strong clack of the keys as you turn
thoughts into type

i wonder what its like to be with you
while you sleep
to see your eyes flutter as you dream
to feel the twitch of your muscles
to hear the soft sighs of slumber
to be the first thing you see when you wake up
maybe all i want to be is the first person to see
those ******* green eyes open
as you realize your dream has ended
and the day has begun
and there's  that girl in your bed again

sorry that im never that girl
sorry that im not your every breath
or the very tips of your fingers
or even the thing you wake up to

but most of all im sorry that you'll never understand
all of which i am saying or feeling