When you ask of me, why poetry
I'm not sure you understand
That it's the center of my universe
The very depth of who I am

The molecules in the air I breath
Oxygen pulsing through the veins
The storm brewing beneath the surface
The pounding of the rain

It's the timeless anticipation
Of the thought that's yet to come
The tearing open of life's seam
The beating of the drum

The first peak of the desert flower
When it feels the gentle touch of spring
The smile in the eyes of a child
And all the joy it brings

The in and out of the tide
In the pulling of the waves
When you ask of me, why poetry
What more is there to say

We are all flowers
of different kinds
We water ourselves
with love and sunshine
But the saddest people
are tired and wilted
and who would water
a damaged flower?
I must be insane
for believing in you,
convincing myself,
thinking you'd stay.

i want to know you at 3am
or on a wednesday afternoon

to know your dreams,
to be your thoughts
and explore the other side
of your crescent moon

maybe i just like
the mystery of you,
but i'm hoping you like
the mystery of me, too

She reads
                                          And she sleeps
                                                      Way too much
                                                            ­           It's her coping defence
                                                                ­               When nothing else will suffice
                                                         ­               She needs to get away
                                                       Without actually leaving
                                             Because she's too scared
                                   And too tired
                                            To leave her bed
                                                      So she cracks open a book
                                                            ­     To escape somewhere far away
                                                            ­             And she'll sob for the characters
                                                      ­                       Whose brokenness resembles hers
                                                            ­                                   And then she'll sleep
                                                           ­                                   And have sweet dreams
                                                          ­              Of realities that are not her own
                                                       Because pretending is so much easier
                                                 Than facing reality
                             So she'll sleep and dream
          And secretly wish she won't wake up
So she can finally escape

And if i choose you
id be choosing the type of happiness
that comes with the cost of pain
but id choose you forever
again, again and again

If I could turn back time,
And tell the 10 year old me,
To ignore the cute girl with the sandy blonde hair,
If I had the chance to do the impossible,
Would I?