When birds start to sing
And the day dances a new
When the grass waves its arms
Shining with morning dew
Where the worlds resets
For just a little while
For five seconds troubles are forgotten
And we allow ourselves a smile

I'm done with her,
and I'm done with him.
I'm done with you,
and I'm done with me.
I'm done with school,
and I'm done with work.
Yet here I am.
"What are you talking about honey? You've just began."

I will tell you when you're wrong.
I have no problem calling you out on your mistakes
because we both know you're better than that.

I will tell you when I'm wrong as well.
I can put away my pride and admit defeat
because there are things that matter more to me.

I will tell you my thoughts.
I can share all my ideas on the secrets of the universe
because I know you're the only one who understands them.

I will tell you my dreams.
I want you to know every little thing that makes my heart race
in hopes that maybe I'll find

it makes your race as well.

I will tell you of my past.
I will take you by the hand and show you every corner
just so you can hold me when the memories become

too much to bear.

I will tell you my fears.
I will whisper of them all night as we drink our wine
and I will shake at each syllable, but I won't stop.

I will tell you my secrets.
I have so many thoughts inside this wounded mind
that I can't always conjure into words -

but I'll try my best to share them with you,
if you want me to.

I will tell you anything you wish to know
but darling, you must understand -
there are three little words
that I just
can't
tell you.

Maybe you’re just terrified that the distance will take over the already empty spaces between your words. Then again, how close are they now? Should’ve never said them in the first place. You kept infixing the wrong meanings into the almost right words and that’s how you ended up here, talking to yourself. Do they mean the same to her as they do to you? How would I know? More like “what would they mean if they didn’t mean anything to you?” Whatever that is, is exactly what they would mean to her. I hate how you always make sense to me yet I’m the one who’s called crazy when I tell people the same stuff that you tell me. Wait, are you crazy? We’ve had that conversation already. Maybe it’s because you don’t say it the way I do. Or they don’t hear it the way YOU do. Remember how you “INFIXX” the wrong meanings into the almost right words? Why would you “INFIXX” my infix? I like that word. No, it’s not a made up word. And I agree. But language is overrated. Everything we’ve ever read is just a different combination of the same twenty-six letters. Wait, why do you always do this? We were talking about her. Let’s talk about her. I like talking about her. Why are you even writing this down? I’m about to post it on the internet. Hellopoetry? This is not even a poem. You could’ve paragraphised it at least. Is that a made up word? ...yes.

I lay awake at night
thank god for my life
and the stars for their light
I look to the morning star and pray
God give me strength to put down this knife
protect my girl, keep her safe and okay
this girl is my sin
One day to be my wife
the girl who I pray will let me in
so dear god, dear stars and the moon
protect my girl, let her get through this strife
keep her safe and okay so that I may see her soon.