I am
confused.

It isn't the first
time.
And it won't be the
last.

Would it be too brazen
for
me to say
it.

I feel that it
would
be slightly out of
place
for me to say
it.

But I like '
you.
And nothing can change
the
way I feel right
now.
Except maybe a
cigarette
and a hundred
more,
and also a
kiss
and a thousand
more.

I'll write about you
for as long as I want.
Unlike these
drugs
I am powerless to
I can quit you.

And so I will write about you until you love me
and I will continue to write about you until you don't.
Because everything fades, and everything dies,
and just like the spring,
your love will fade,
if it blossoms at all.

Be careful sharing your heart with me.
I fall in love with those who open up.
Like a levee breaking
my love with flood in to your heart.

It will be beautiful and it will be fierce
and the currents will be of a Biblical magnitude.
So please be careful;
you're far too pretty to hurt.

How sad it is to me,
that those with the most beautiful hearts find themselves empty.
That those with the loveliest faces find themselves resembling dirt.
That those with the softest skin cut into themselves.

In the sky there is a lonely star,
and in my heart there is a starless sky.

With the help of friends and methamphetamines
its been forty-eight hours since I've slept
but I am not tired.

Last night I laid awake on a lovely boy's couch
thinking of the moments we spent together
and I couldn't help but replay them in my brain
over and over,
hoping beyond hope for sleep
and you to share it with.

I guess I didn't see your scars,
blame it on the lighting or the beer,
but I knew they were there.
As my hands felt their way across your beautiful landscape,
I took special care not to rest them upon the raised, pink lines,
not wanting you, for even a moment,
to think the thoughts you thought when you created them.

I would tear my skin wide open,
stretch it across all the seas seven hundred times,
if it meant a single, tiny scratch would never find it's way onto your body with the guidance of your hand, the guidance of your starless night sky of a heart.

A heart beats inside my chest,
but is that sound enough evidence
that I can love,
or not hurt at best.

I try and I try and I try
but good feelings never come from my efforts,
so I take and I take and I take
and make beautiful people cry.

I should be tearing myself apart,
unearthing every sin
and dark place,
to find even the remains of a heart.