i miss the idea of you a little.
is that wrong to say?
i miss it when i could look at you and imagine what it would be like to make you laugh.
i miss memorizing your routes to class and pretending that we just happened to cross paths.
i'd smile at you without meaning to, trying to take my heart off of my sleeve.

i miss crushing on you a little.
the same way you miss breaking curfew.
but now we're all just so tired.

i just want you to kiss me and say it's okay. say it's okay that i miss my imaginary you. because i miss the real you more.

love,
grey eyes

you told me i smell like a mix of my vanilla bean chapstic and sin
a combination of caring too much and the smoke i just had
just the right balance between sweet and unholy

but i still smell only dryer sheets

adults make me scared of
becoming two dimentional

is this my last year
of seeing in color?

if my eyes start to look like yours,
all lifeless and disappointed

i'd rather die young

i haven't watched les miserables recently
maybe that means i'm happy

or maybe i'm just tired