Cold weather isn't good for old souls

My intentions are not to try to steal your boy
I do not want him
I simply wanted closer
A final heart stopper to **** this infatuation  
I do not want him
Not after you took who he was and altered him into
Your own creation
He no longer has wild stories to tell
But the words "no I can't do that" slip from his mouth all too often
I wanted to say words that have the world in their meaning, so I could know that I didn't want to speak all of creation to him
You see there was a time when I wanted to
I would have given him every plant on this green earth
But you my dear, aren't into gardening
You see, I no longer wish for him
But if you are insecure enough to think that you need to defend your relationship to me
What does that say about you

How can I tell you not to talk?
I'm gonna show you.

And when you see me, on the silver screen;
Or when you hear me, over the radio waves;
You're gonna melt.

And when you evaporate,
And you take your new form in the air;
I'm gonna let you rain on me.

Cuz we're in this together.
And I won't have you walking around like that.
I would rather you be swallowed up
And made a small part of everything that's wonderful.

Save your voice for singing.

Tell me your sins
So I can bathe them away with my empathy
But you settle for mere conversations
With apathetic words

Covered in tick,tacks and apple sauce, forgetting juice boxes and blasting songs, flaming ashes flying up my nose. The smoke envelopes, dreams of a girl with short hair inhales my vision like the ******* on the dash board, or the gas we breath. I'm falling in love, I'm covered by pollen, I'm dying for love, I'm covering pollen. Short breaths and small asthma attacks in the back.  The heat from the front seat leaving me charred. Your smiling face on the pavement as I lay next. I finally understand

I fell in love with poems
Words typed by you
With nothing to go on
But short conversations
And length poems
I became infatuated with words

For the past month I’ve been trying to write
About everything- from the way flower petals bend, and look so soft, why I’ve been feeling so depressed lately, even about how when I was a kid I played the flute
But none of it sticks, I can’t get passed stanza four
I’ve had this problem before
Where I can only describe a bending sky, but never can I get to the way it breaks.
But I swear I’ve been broken before
More broken than junk yard cars, and dropped glass bottles
And I’m still gluing myself back together, over and over
Getting spare parts to try to fix me
When this is all over my new skin will be composed of words written over centuries
And my edges will be a little rough
Covered with a bit of rust
But who isn’t
My best friend is a mess of parts that don’t quite fit together right
But she makes me strong, and when I break down she will take herself apart to fix me
And that’s something we all need
When I was little and I still played the flute
I dyed my hair green for the first time
Going to music class for the second time, my teacher no longer recognized me
And back then I didn’t carry around an arsenal of defense mechanisms
And when I was told I looked like a boy, I pretended that I wasn’t getting chipped away at
That's probably why I will never enjoy band, and I can’t look into the eyes of a music teacher
Every middle school poem was brought back to red roses and flowers
And how your hand was softer than a newly budding flower petal
In all reality that’s why I don’t about flowers anymore
And I’ve been so depressed lately because I can’t write
But I guess junk yard cars and broken bottles can’t write either