I like you so much,
it's bound for disaster.
Let's pretend we're in a musical.
Take my hand, and we'll dance.
Let's start with the "Happily Ever After,"
and have a doomed romance.

I am guilty of projecting. I will turn you into a goddess
in my mind to deal with the anxiety of
the fact that you might actually like me. I will like you back,
to an extreme; to the point where it's scary,
so that you'll stay away from me.
"Oh yea, watch out for that one. He's crazy."

Vain girls are attracted to it.
They like the way I paint them in my dreams.
As if fulfilling their own of becoming some sort of
Aphrodite. They build their confidence off of my idolatry.
I've seen it go to their heads.
It makes me kind of sick.

I will use you. The fantastical female;
my muse. You inspire my more neurotically infused
writings, and give fire to my self-abuse.

A few times, I've gotten the one I desired. Always through my words.
Forced to deal with discrepancies between fantasies and the truth, I fall apart.
Invariably, they were emotionally damaged;
prone to crying. I'd give them my shoulder and wrestle with the thoughts
that I'd fallen for a girl so much like my mother.
**** you, Freud.

Now I know better, but I can't fight my nature.
So I've embraced it. Taken it to new heights. Turned it into an art form.
Mentally magnified mistress, watch this:
I will take everything you've ever said (which I cannot forget)
and reflect it back at you through my poetic psychotic lens
Freaky, is it not?

But it's also kind of fun.
If you can appreciate the irony,
then I think you might be the one.

i am writing poems just to make You upset
when i should have learned from the lesson You taught me
transparency hurts more than a punch in the *****
You can bet your life on that
guess what?
even though i know all that
i'm still trying to find a way NOT to hurt You


maybe I'll punch you in the ***** just to make sure

he can't help but smile
as he grabs my hand
leading me out of the car

he can't help but flush
after our first kiss
in a crowded book store

he can't help but sigh
after our first heated moment
in the backseat of his car

he can't help but shake
the first time i lied
and we talked it through

he can't help but cry as
i told him why
and he help me so tight i turned blue

he can't help but rub his eyes
as he uttered his first lie
"i will always love you"

he can't help but frown
during our first official fight
when we thought the worst

he can't help but draw
much farther away
into his own mind

i can't help but reach out
trying to catch him
through the cracks in my fingers

i can't help but mourn
what could have been
and all of the time i put forth

i can't help but feel
like i want to die
but i guess i'm just stuck this way

for a while.

xoxoxo


i still love you

it's so late
you've dimmed the dashboard
and taken out the key
for air so cold
it's thicker than it should be.