The day I met you, I wasn’t sure what to expect.
My past relationships consisted of the same things,
Fights, break-ups, make-ups, normal things.
But it lacked something.

It lacked you.

I saw the world differently with you.
Before, my life was black and white. Dull and boring.
And then you came waltzing around and painting my life in different colors.
Everything became alive.

Including me.

With you, I felt the warmth of an embrace,
The spark from holding hands,
The passion in kisses,
Excitement in dates,
The beauty in love.

And I’ll never be able to thank you enough.

Because of you,
The girl who used to only exist,
Now lived.

Before there was you, this day made me blue
It was a constant reminder of a love that wasn’t true
But things suddenly changed on that one day I asked
“What day should we celebrate, and raise you a glass?”

I let out a laugh from utter disbelief
“I was born on the day that you look forward to the least”
I smiled at the fact that it was easy to remember
Suddenly that day became a little bit better

I found myself giddy, happy, and ecstatic
For you made this day no longer that tragic
Of course I am grateful; you replaced a bad memory
But I am most grateful for your sincerity

Along with sincerity, you brought comfort and care
Things I never thought one could just possibly bear
I was afraid to trust you, but you never faltered
No matter my wrongs, you were always still there

I am most grateful for you, yes that is true
You made this day bright, and no longer blue
If one day I am able to just show you what I see
I’d make you see how wonderful and precious you are to me

I wish words were enough to express every thought
But no matter how I try, they just simply can not
So let me just say this one final thing
Thank you for being you and all the joy that you bring

“I’m ok.” “I’m fine.” Two constant affirmations I fool everyone around me with.
Everyday they ask, “How are you?” and my general answer is either of the two lies I’ve grown accustomed to say.
Am I that good at acting? Have I finally mastered the art of pretending that no one can see that those affirmations are expressed through eyes so tired of crying, a mouth swollen from biting back screams, and a heart so empty?

Everyday I put on my fake happy mask, hoping that no one will notice how broken I really am.
But a part of me, albeit a small part, is begging and hoping that someone, anyone would just grab me and look past my façade.
I desperately want, no, need someone to just search through my eyes, see past my fake smile and tell me “You’re not okay.”

Is that too much to ask? Someone to just tell me that they know I’m not fine.
That it’s okay I’m not okay, that they’re here for me?
But I know it’s impossible. I burn the bridges people make before they even lay a foot on it.
I build my walls higher until it’s no longer penetrable.
I push people away, fearing that I’ll only end up with more tears and sleepless nights.
And yet I crave care.

See how ****** up I am?

I wish…I just wish that someone would actually be brave enough to rebuild the bridges I’ve burned, break down the walls I’ve built, no matter how hard it may be, and just tell me,

“You’re not alone.”

You know, when people ask me to make a comparison between you and an addiction of mine, I always say hot chocolate. They’d laugh because they think I’m joking and ask me to be serious, but I always say the same thing. You’re just like hot chocolate.

You make me feel warm whenever I’m with you, like I’m always welcomed in your arms. You make me feel content to just be sitting beside you reading a book in one hand and holding yours in the other. You make me feel happy that I chose, and continue to choose us even after what we’ve been through.

Warmth, contentment, and happiness. These are what I feel when I drink my addiction which you, make me feel as well.

So they can call me silly all they want, I don’t care. You’re my hot chocolate. If they ask you why and you think my explanation is too long, just tell them this.

"I make her feel at home.”

I tried time and time again to write you a poem
But my hands and mind don’t seem to function
I think it’s because they know that no matter what I write
These words will never be enough to express how much you mean to me

Even as I attempt to write now
My words fall short
I just can’t seem to find the right words to perfectly describe you

I can describe what I feel for you though
Every laugh you share with me adds love to my heart
Every smile, hug, touch, every little thing that you give to me
Makes me love you more

This love I have for you is in no way romantic, nor will it ever be
But it is true
I have yet to meet a soul so attuned with mine
Then you came along and everything changed

I suddenly found myself growing attached to you
And I knew it was dangerous since people could leave so easily
But I wasn’t afraid with you
‘Cause I knew, somehow, you were attached to me too
And you never left

I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again
I love you
I’ll never abandon you
And thank you

Thank you for allowing me to be part of your life
And though it’s only been seven years
You will always be my best friend,
Through thick and thin

You and I, we’ll always be infinite

I know I shouldn't wish on shooting stars or wishing wells, but I do.

Every opportunity I have, I always wish for one thing.

You.

I wish I was the reason your beautiful lips smiled while your fingers intertwine with mine.
I wish I was able to envelop you in ny arms, get lost in your eyes,
And press my lips gently to yours.

I wish you'd love me the way I love you.
Reckless, true, unconditional.

But you don't.

You are my muse. The inspiration and soul of my art. But to you, I'm an invisible painter.

A painter who continously tortures himself by painting scenarios of you and I together, who is hoping that one day, you would look my way and deem me worthy of your love.

But it can't be.

For you my love are a goddess, beautiful and without flaw, who does not deserve me, a mere mortal.

But I will continue wishing on shooting stars and wishing wells, praying to the heavens that one day, you hear my cry.

"I wish for you my love. I'll always wish for you."

Everyday he writes her a song
He writes about how they met
The jokes they cracked, the stories they shared
Everyday he sings her a song
And everyday, he falls harder for the writer.

Everyday she writes a new poem
She writes about a love she can’t return
A love she doesn’t deserve, doesn’t want
Everyday she hears a new song
And everyday, she breaks the songwriter’s heart.

Two writers seemingly perfect for each other,
But cannot be together
He loves her, she doesn’t
“I just can’t love you the way you want me to”

I was never a believer of love, of soul mates or happy endings
But when I saw you sitting near the door of an old café,
E.E Cummings in one hand, coffee in the other
I knew you were the one.

You looked so focused on the poem you were reading
A furrow to your brow, a pout on your lips,
A gaze so transfixed on the text, the world around you barely existed.
You were in your world, and I wanted to be part of it.

And as if my mind and heart had an agreement, my legs started to move
Closer and closer, my hand reached the door, went inside, walked a few more steps
Just a bit more I told myself, I started to reach for you, to ask if I may talk with you
But before I could, you looked up at me, smiled, and the breath I didn’t know I was holding in for so long was knocked out of me.
You were so beautiful.

Your eyes were the shade of the finest and richest of chocolates,
Your cheeks the most beautiful of roses,
Your lips the perfect canvas for mine to paint,
And your smile the sweetest of honeys.

Closer I went and finally I reached you.
I grabbed your hand, E.E Cummings shortly forgotten, sat in front of you and with all the courage I could muster, I spoke your favorite verse.
“I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart. Wherever I go my dear, you go.”

I looked like a lovesick fool and you looked confused.
You smiled, intertwined our fingers and asked what was wrong.
I said everything is fine. Ever since you allowed me to carry your heart and you carried mine, everything has been better than fine

Like a pretty book sitting on a shelf,
you picked me with intentions of reading every chapter I have written
for a lover who would one day finish my untold plot.

I thought it was you.

For months you have read me,
flipped between my pages
and slowly traced my every word with your lying eyes.
Those very eyes that looked at me with interest
were the same eyes that stared at me with emptiness.

I hoped it was you,
to be the lover I wanted so desperately
to read between the lines of my “i love you”s
and see the “i need you”s underneath.

I wanted it to be you,
to be the one to finally understand
that every sharp curse I have written,
was only a feeble disguise for a whispered declaration.

But on Monday night, you stopped reading me.
For what reason you ask?
You found another book.
A prettier, more exciting book
that gave you what you’ve always wanted.
A fairytale.

I should’ve known you would leave me unfinished in the end.
After all,
no one wants to read a book about reality.