Eyes haunt me in the dark of the night.

Eyes I want, eyes that watch me in the waking hours and eyes endlessly open to the idea of a silly theory entitled me.

Eyes that sparkle when they see my face, wanted and held once more, eyes so new yet eyes I feel I've tied around my heart for a thousand years.

Poetic words lead my lips astray, darkening the colors of a blossoming attraction into the gray undertones of possible love, fantasizing too much and trying too little.

Lips I know he looks and at wonders how they’d feel painted across his soul, my warm touch against his and a dance I have long forgotten strewn across the bedroom.

   Fingers grasp at mine from all directions, yet his are the ones I find in the fray.

I hold tight, wanting so badly for the future, savoring so heavenly the present.

Disjoint, we are so new, but the possibilities of a condescending maybe are too strong for once for me to dismiss.

Maybe. Maybe is the only word I need to live off, a maybe for him, for his eyes, for his lips, for his fingers entwined with mine.

  All I need is maybe for my heart to fly.

Smile in the darkest hour, where the weeping willows cry their song,
while the blood drains from my face, while the funeral procession marches on.
Smile when I'm dead and tired, sleeping in my wooden home,
remembering these forlorn years, when I lay in your arms.
Smile as I die tonight, weep no more my dear, for summer delight is drawing close,
death becomes nothing to fear.
Smile when I close my eyes, a final whisper goodbye.
Smile when you dry your tears, for forever I will be near.
Smile.

Paper, thin and fragile, like my lips against yours,
I forgot how to articulate the poems of my fingertips when you kissed me.
Regret the words I didn't say, too shocked, too scared,
to realize the gravity of the sky when you are in it.
I should have whispered kiss me again.