We live in a nation where
People prefer to fall asleep
Holding their phones
Instead of their partners
And we wonder why
Romance is dying.

Emma talked about him like he was tattooed into her eyelids and he would not
allow her to scrub him away. I swear, he thinks everything is funny when it
makes me mad. But she still answered his texts like it was the package
she had been waiting for months now, and she still loved him like it was an
antidote for some lovesick disease. I could see the way he ate up her affection
like it was some sort of sugar high, before he crashed into another girl's bed
that had been waiting all evening for him. Last night I watched as Emma and him
kissed for the hundredth time under a dozen stars, her hands pressed around him,
before a dozen of those stars came falling down to the ground, and he
disappeared with a different girl. Last night her tears over watered the lilies I keep
in my bedroom and leaked through the floor. Last night he called and said Baby,
I wouldn't mind choosing you and I could hear a female voice in the background
like a bullet shot through the line. It traveled through her eardrums and followed the path down to her heart. Last night I told Emma she was worth more than this. Last night Emma stopped responding to his texts. Last night Emma and I went out and she
kissed another boy who danced with her like they were the only ones in the room,
and touched her like she was something better than his own existence. And last night,
Emma decided to not go home with anyone because she had an evening booked
with a new prince charming who knew how to wait for her.

When I look the stars at night, I think of you
When I see the sun shines, I think of you
When I am alone, I think of you
When I am crying, I think of you

When I close my eyes, I see you
When I open my eyes, I miss you
And when I say I love you,
Please believe me it's true.

Let's talk about the girl,
who wasn't ready for the nights events,
ashamed of the fact that she didn't know the right words, or gestures to prove herself worthy.

Let's talk about the boy,
keeping a pace comparable to roaring waves,
inviting himself into a place he wasn't welcome.

Let's talk about the word "please",
how it fell off his tongue like cinnamon; coating the surface of her uncertainty with promises of a tomorrow.

Let's talk about the street lights,
radiating like a warning,
whispering: run.

Let's talk about regret,
humming her to sleep,
reminding her of the view from a dark street
screaming: you deserve more than this.

I wrote you a love letter today,

If you listen close enough
You'll hear the gentle drumming of my heart beat
Inside the envelope.

Don't drop it.
Open it gently.

Inside you will find
Chemical solutions, black
Ink on a page, a heavy handed mass
Of words, slotted carefully between each other,
Lines saturated in love.
Hand crafted works of art
An attempt to articulate and communicate
The fires you send swimming through
My veins, the tsunamis you send
Tripping of my tongue.

Scribbled confessions of just how much my body aches for your touch.

Don't drop it.
Open it gently.

It is yours.
It has always been yours.
I have always been yours.

She breathes
Constellations straight into my lungs.
She leaves
Stars fizzing gently on my tongue.

i crave your skin; your touch
i crave your hands
your smile
your eyes and how they crinkle when you laugh
i crave the me i am when i'm with you
i crave your lips; how they'd feel on mine
i crave your affection
i crave for you
and that's all i can do
crave

                                                                 r.n