I must be Schizophrenic.
There's me
and then
there's my heart.

She's the one who kissed you,
and
I'm the one who panicked and said they had to leave.

She's the one who doodles your name in her journal,
and
I'm the one who turns off their phone to avoid contact with you.

She's the one who can feel this passionate, sap dripping love.

I'm the who's tired of picking up the pieces and pretending to be alright.
I'm the one who can feel the potential pain of losing you.

Maybe one day you can love us both.

I don't remember when I learned how to speak or even
drink

Yet, these thirsty lips always run to their words
-clinging to each syllable like a child to it's mother

But this time it's different

I'd whisper how while we kiss
but for the first time I have no words.

I don't remember the first time I heard your name

maybe, I just knew...

Funny,
it seems these days and long nights its all these love drunk lips are stumbling on.

and that's why
this time it's different.

She walks into a room like a hurricane of confidence
While others, slump in, afraid of drawing attention to themselves.
Its not like that though.
She doesn’t cry out for attention
Rather her personality demands

She isn’t the kind to waste away
Her laugh demands a reply of a smile
and
Her eyes demand yours

She wants and works and receives

She’s like mother nature, the way she moves
She rooted to the ground, like an old oak tree:
swaying in the wind, with a breeze of a smile

Sometimes I think she most have not been raised like others
Its like fear was never installed into her mind
and
faith was always on her lips, since the day she was born

When other inquire about her:
who she is
and
ask why
and
don’t understand

I reply:

“Though she be but little, she is fierce”

I have this dream:
and You
are in it.
Yes, You.

They are beautiful
and so very alive

So it must be You.

We make eye contact and suddenly we are kissing
well, we kiss
one kiss

Then I wake up
and
I want to rub the dream off me
and
avoid the thought of you

So I write and "go for a walk"
and make myself "busy"

in the end its just me hiding:
back against the wall.

Thinking of how you still you believe in me
and this makes me sick

So I go to sleep with tears on my pillow

and

there You are.

I wake up
and hang my head over the toilet

Books, papers and pens

building the stability of society

"the norm"

I do hear your words, as my eyes glaze over

I want to be crazy,
not just crazy
insane

They'd lock me up

oh,
I'd be glad

I have hazel eyes:
they are brown with
hints of
brown

but my eyes are hazel

They look at me and say
"What a funny girl."

They look at me
and
look away.

So when you look at me
honest and true
don't be surprised
if I don't believe you