You're worth more than a poem.
But for now,
I'll try my best to make this much more than just a poem:
but a message from me.

What you don't know is,
every time she feels down, she rereads all your kind words.
When she's bored, you're not on,
she rereads them.
She spends all her time thinking about you.
She cherishes you,
You're the best she ever had.

She takes everything about you,
devours them, slowly savoring all the good bits (which is everything),
and then keeps them tattooed all over me,
never to be removed.
Each and every letter, engrained onto me with a flourish,
a kiss,
trailing her hands behind, stroking the way the gorgeous letters look
all aligned together to make such beautiful sentences.

Her eyes trail every word,
her hands caress the wonder machine that brought her you,
her ears thrumming with the sounds of you,
the music notes floating into her ears,
the way water flows,
for you are better than just any ordinary ocean.

You may call her an ocean,
but you are more than that.
The ocean only takes up 75% of Earth.
You are much more.
You are her sky,
her universe.

You hold the stars in your heart,
twinkling like little rubies.
Just like the moon and the sun,
you see everything.
The clouds are your façade,
and the rain,
your tears.
Beautiful.

And all she wants to be is the satellite,
to explore you and learn everything about you,
to always circle around and around,
to never leave.

I know you won't break me,
or her.
And for that,
I am forever in your debt.
So come to me when you need me,
I will do anything to serve my prince.

With Great Love,
The Creep's Heart

never was or in between almost
and here on paths of worn leather
and jeans left in the corners standing
almost on their own
with bass drums from hell and guitars from heaven
lightning away
we went to together a dream
a wondered place of blacklight and innocence we
really never had or tasted sweet like
in a rush to maturity
we ran on all fours
drooling about doors and
Zeppelin and emerged
kind of.
Ten Years After.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.