“Don't get sweet on me, we both know this is just infatuation” i couldn't tell if she was kidding, would it bother me if she wasn't? I drove to third street and asked the cold, cold ocean what i should do. The ocean told me i should probably wear shoes more often. I laughed. Thats a good start i guess?
Because maybe i've been too open Maybe i haven't taken enough care of my sole (soul?) Maybe i've been stopped at a green light, maybe i've been driving through red ones Maybe i've been so close to turning around and just heading home Maybe id be better off there? Maybe she's right
Or maybe This girl is going to love the **** out of me someday And ill look at her and say Don't get sweet on me, we both know its just infatuation And we’ll laugh Because we’ll be wrong
(noun) --A dock in the sea at which boats may anchor
That's the definition Google gave But if you ask me, Google doesn't know ****
Because no matter how many pages I've searched Or links that I've clicked Google can never tell me how many times you've made me laugh more genuinely than I thought myself capable
No algorithm can pinpoint how many hours we spent on that front porch swing covered by empty Barefoot bottles letting our heels sink in awe of the world we had in front of us
Trust me that no "I'm Feeling Lucky" button could ever lead me up the steps of that little apartment where i learned that your dollar store pasta, simple as it may, will always be my favorite
And may it not by God or some invisible hand be the reason i believe in fate
Always my North Star, together you and I make a really ****** compass. But then again we've never held trust to anything but our guts to tell us we are heading in the right directions.
And so many directions we have taken, to think all the conversations we've held about the places we'd end up were just the billboards we didn't know we were passing
Okay--maybe Google's definition wasn't so far off then. You my friend are more than just a season You are the life, and the warmth, and the beauty of our favorite June night even in the dead of winter The fog on the windows of your house are reminders of every breath that has escaped you, every breath you'll never be able to catch every breath you have stolen
Enough to heat a home.
So i know that no matter how rough the waters or smooth my ocean's floor, I, my lonely ship, know I can always have a place to anchor
I want to be a poet. To have words so forthcoming so forlorn so foreign that they strike your ears perked and echo beyond the white noise that surrounds us
I want to pour mountains in to your eyes so tamed but so enticing, and always just a little bit beyond your reach.
I want to be a generator and fill you up when i see your eyes being to fall below your depression.
I want to brush my fingers across the bits of skin that stick out and make you squirm but cause you to smile like when you see the sun for the first time after a rain storm.
I want to be the wind that runs across your collar causing you to turn closer to me. I want to collect your warmth in a jar and carry it in my knapsack so when I need a totem to get me through the day I can open up a little bit of you.
I want to capture that glimmer in your eye that tells me I am worth so much more than I imagine. I want to paint you onto every blank canvas though no rendition I could every re-create would have not even half of the life I found in your heart. But i could try.
I want to be your first drink of water After being in the heat. trickle down your throat like the tickle of a feather leaving you wanting more and yet fulfilled at the same time. I want to be the glove that fits around your hand so that I could hold you all day long and hold your heat inside your palm.
I want to be the cloud that catches your attention Finding shapes in me connecting the lines I have lost along the way. I want to be the snowflake that sits on your eyelashes as they bat up and down fluttering the kisses of a butterfly to every passerby.
i want to be an island in the middle of your sea. isolated but not alone because I am surrounded by you. I want to be the wave that breaks upon your *******, playful banter between the ocean and the sand swirling in all directions together we twist in the tide.
I want to be something to you other than just another girl that caught your eye that night. I want to matter instead of just be matter.
I want to be a song That you can never stop singing because even though you've heard me one too many times You are still so caught.
But now I am the yellow light that turned red right as you approached the intersection. We were not made to go in the same direction.
I want to be yours.
But everyone knows the problem with star-crossed lovers is that they only cross once