If I could forget just one thing
I think I'd want it to be
how to get from my house to
yours.
and from there,
how to get from inside my car
to inside your room.
or which couch in the living room
you always stretched out on.
or where you would keep the
orange juice in your refrigerator.
or the names of your pets.

I know how to get to your house
from mine
like the back of my hand.
I don't even have to think about it.
like running my fingers through my hair,
it's become a part of me.

I feel it would be easier to forget you,
or at least let go of you,
if I didn't remember this so well
so long after I stopped feeling welcome
standing on your welcome mat.

When I asked God to give me a sign,
a Sagittarius wasn't what I had in mind,
but I want nothing more than
to spend everyday tripping over our feet
and into new adventures.

You have a wicked sense of humour that
makes your eyes sparkle
and when you laugh I feel it in my chest.
I feel everything,
Like when you wouldn't let go of my
hand when you got that tattoo
or when you told me about
all the things you would change about yourself.
I felt that and I broke.

I still remember when you wrinkled your nose
and told me about the scar on your thigh.
You have a birthmark shaped like Massachusetts
and I want to take you everywhere.
You worry too much
about too much
and I don't mind reassuring you
that I'm the one with good balance
and you're the one that ought to be careful.

I didn't mean to fall in love with you,
love is an anchor and
baby I believed I was built for speed.
I like how you slow things down, though.
I didn't notice how many things
are living and loving
until we fed the ducks at the park
and watched some ants build a home.
I've never had a home, but I never had you before.

i tore apart a white rose today
i tore apart
innocence
purity
spirituality
sympathy

how ironic.

i saw a tan old station wagon chugging down the road
i saw
passion
fear
excitement
beginnings

i look at you
i do not see
love
care
fondness
strength

i see a corpse.

He sat there and stared at her,
Not in a creepy way -
She just made him think, that's all,
Think about why the kind of love he wanted seemed to be strange...for a teenager.

You see,
Everyone his age makes it sound like you only date a girl to get blow jobs and **** her and have ***.
That's all they talk about,
And also making out and groping ***** and ***.

But to him,
Love isn't that,
Love is cuddling,
Holding your girl close and telling her she's beautiful,
Love is trying to make her laugh and turning down every compliment she gives you with, "Don't forget that I'm also very stupid."
Love is never letting her leave you without telling her you love her.
Love is taking walks and holding hands,
And whispering thoughts and kisses on the cheek.
Love is being innocent 90% of the time, but using your other head 10% of the time.
To him,
That's what love is - contradictory to the opinions of all his peers.

That girl he's staring at,
He loves her,
He doesn't imagine getting a ******* or ******* from her,
He can't - but it's not like he'd turn her down if she wanted to -
He can't imagine having *** with her,
He's too scared of pressuring her into doing it if she doesn't want to...
The kind of love that his heart beats for is the innocent kind,
The one where cute little memories are made,
Where there's less kissing and ******* and more talking and laughing and heart-to-heart's,
The kind of love he wants seems to be weird for a teenage boy,
So he stares at her,
Wondering if she would like a guy like him -
That's just him and love,
Love makes him weird...
His kind of love is weird.

*Is that the kind of love she wants?

I find it kind of funny
That people care after it's too late
I find it kind of funny
When people care about **** they're unable to do anything about
I find it kind of funny
That people can care about people they never knew existed, but most likely wouldn't do **** to help them
I find it ******* hilarious
That people care what I do with my life

Your hands are just the right texture,
The softness bids all my fears to subside.

Your lips are just too perfect,
A different taste according to your lipstick,
But still the same sensation that makes my eyes slowly close shut.

Your eyes give away your feelings,
And your, "I want you" eyes are simply the best.

Your hugs are magical,
They make my insides feel soft and mushy,
They make me feel warm and loved.

Baby,
You're absolutely perfect for me -
Why don't you want to see that?
Why'd you rather be insecure even though I remind you everyday that you're the pretty one in our relationship?

**** these tiny butterflies,
that rest in my stomach,
and expand in my chest...

like little paper knives,
i choke.  

and
ill block my lungs one day,
and ***** them up,
coughing out each wing
and eyeball and
tooth
.
.
.

even if theyve got my tongue twisted,
and my brain scattered,

like paint,
it is venom to my
squeezing, breathing heart
and
one day
ill rip out my
intestines
just to see them
gone.