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Addison René Apr 2014
i would write about you
but i don't want to share you
i would say:
"our lips were carved perfectly for one another's to fit"
(and more ******* like that)
i would say:
"my heart feels like a shaken up bottle of coke every time you look at me
and when you press your mouth against the can, i explode
i would say:
"my name sounds like music when it dances on your tounge"
i would say:
"isn't it funny that all of this -
and i still can't love you?"
Addison René Apr 2014
and there's one thing i can't tell:
if it's you
or this winter weather
that's got me feeling so
blue
Addison René Apr 2014
and i never knew how much
i wanted love
and despised it
at the same time,
until
i met you
Addison René Apr 2014
i keep swimming
around the tiny puddle of you
in the backroads of my mind
my elbows barely fit and
you refuse to let that stop me,
i am submerged, heart-first
you are there
you are there
you are there and you make sure of it
you are not a lake,
you are not vast, you are not deep,
you do not even have a tide
but you are there
and my elbows fit (barely)
Addison René Apr 2014
i wonder 
if it’s like de ja vú

listening to the same ****** music

in the same ****** car

on the same ****** road 

i wonder 
if you glance over while going 60 in a 25

and wish you’d spontaneously combust

when the person beside you 
isn’t me

because i do every night
Addison René Apr 2014
there is nothing poetic
about the way you smash your drums in
like you smash memories

there is nothing poetic about the way you recite words
that mean everything to you

but do not live by

there is nothing poetic about how you look to the left
because the right way is never your way 

there is nothing poetic deep under your ‘skin’
there is nothing poetic about finding a better place to ‘fit in’
there is nothing poetic about the way you percieve the world or what kind of music you listen to or the way you dress or the way you feel when you are alone and looking at the stars

there is nothing poetic about the smell of camp fire or peter pan or metallica
because we’re off to neverland 

only, you’re off to nowhere 

there is nothing poetic about you

there is nothing poetic about you

— The End —