I am in love with a boy
I can only really love when he sleeps.
Once he wakes and starts to speak
We run into trouble.

The way he uses spite is appalling and
(quite frankly) impressive.
At the end of the day we are equals of the worst kind-
Weaknesses targeted
and terrorized.
Bent on destruction
of both each other and (most certainly) ourselves.
We pick and choose the rules.
Common decency means nothing.
What is common?
What is decent?

Why can't we just find a way to love each other that makes sense? (I frown)
Why does it have to make sense? (he pries)

But when he sleeps
It always seems rational and reasonable and
even sometimes doable.
Every movement, every whispered word, every muffled thought
dulled by dreams and expressed by snore.

Your breath is never regular.
You are never regular.

Please ignore the cigarette holes
Burned into my clothes.

I will always lie
And say they aren't mine.

But these secret smoke rings
Carry away unspeakable things
And tonight from this balcony
They are just what I need
to be fine.

i'm not
very patient
but to be fair,
you're not very kind.
i think we can agree that
things will even out over time.

You once told me
How much time you spent
Screaming "I'm sorry" at the stars.

I must admit that I am starting to see
The reason you need excessive apologies.

I woke up to see the fog had lifted.
Just another minor inconvenience
Brought to you by March in the Midwest.

The fog last night seemed calculated,
And dangerous
For those of us
Whose moods depend so largely on surroundings.

The fog has always unsettled me;
Dulled senses make me nervous.
The unfamiliar can prompt innovation and adventure,
But in the end, being lost just ******* *****.

If I could stop
This life's relentless clock
And split my very being;
Then exactly one-half
Would stay right on this path
All the while freeing-

The other part,
With a more curious heart,
And considerably bolder.
It would be content to sit,
Study the curve of your lips,
And rest its head on your shoulder.

I'm in Love with an *******.
It might sound harsh,
But its mostly just accurate.

He says his feeling for me are in a state of 'flux.'
He says a lot of things like that.

He thinks I repeat myself too often.
It's one of my many flaws he feels compelled to highlight
With alarming frequency.
But he says a lot of things like that.

He ***** me like he has something to prove though.
(Probably because he does.)
It's almost biblical ****; I swear
we can move mountains then.
Or more impossibly,
we can show each other we actually care.

The things his wandering hands can whisper to me
Coupled with the things his hips can scream
Give me brief moments to believe
this is real.

But then its over.
And it's back to
nit-picking
bickering
******* contests.

We will never be comfortable.
We will never behave.

We both know how this will end.

An endless loop.
The world's worst song on repeat.

He says a lot of things like that.