I had a dream of you once before I met you, well it wasn't you, but lord did it feel like you.
Funny how in those years after I had that dream did I search the crowds for a man who stood above the rest, broad shoulders and eyes that made my stomach boil.
But in these dreams, your voice is muted and I can't get the hang of catching it, it feels like I'm in a tunnel, you laugh but I can't catch your octaves. Surely if I heard them, I would've fell to my knees.
Ever heard of the knee-trembler? I'm not talking about the *** position, just the way your name sounds clicking against my teeth.  
You fit in my dreams the way I fit in the crook of your shoulder.
Dreams are just made of boys with electric eyes and the perfect ways to say hello.

Maybe John Green had a thing going.
She was only a drizzle and I? A hurricane.
But you loved wheels on wet pavement and dancing between raindrops, I never met that side of you, only observed in glossy images.
I wanted to know you, the side that loved rain on his collarbones and drops clinging to his shoulders.
Maybe I would've met him if I wasn't destruction and a tendency to drown any childhood urge below a surface of  rage.
You understand me, right?
Who ever loved a hurricane anyway.

Don't leave me for the bedroom, we've been there a handful of time, my hair tangled around your fingers, and the time you said you loved me written across your chest.
I've slept alone in here, maybe once or twice, the smell of you blanketed me and I felt so completely disabled, so paralyzed with thought of you bringing your heat beneath these sheets.
I've examined every inch of this room, I can tell you where the light shines like moons, and almost every object on your bedside table (a stuffed dog, loose change, a note, crumpled up homework, a dock, your keys, the miscellaneous, and me.)
I've laughed here, but I'll never cry here, beds with beautiful boys were never meant for mini-oceans and heaving shoulders. I wonder if you've cried here, laughed here, wished for me here. Makes me wonder who else knew everything on that table, or saw the dust filtering through your blinds, did she love it all as much as I?
This felt safe, your warmth and your chest beating along in time with mine, this wasn't home, but a hell.
For if you left? These would be the things to haunt me.

Excuse me, boy with storms in his eyes, may I get to understand your ligaments please?
You walk with the stride of a man who doesn't understand the way his freckles line up with a girl who gives you kisses in the form of bruises across your shoulders.
I swear you've brushed your hands across my hips enough to have your scent poisoned into my pores, I smell of heartache and cologne that makes girls with tempers weak at the knees.
I beg of you to let me trace the scars of the wings you once had, before you fell for someone as ****** as me.
I promise to take care of you, and sink so far into your bloodstream that you scream my name in your sleep.

Head in my hands, fingers tangled in my hair, chest heaving, ribs slowly protruding out of the layer of skin you never took the time to care about.
Not even my own skeleton felt the need to hold me together, just another thing we had in common I suppose.
Bones of ivory separated itself from the skin that had never really felt like home.
Walking away, holding the hands of a boy who couldn't even take the time to notice the cracks he had left across my sternum.
I am just a bundle of skin, beautiful only when your bedside lamp is shining across my ribs and fingers digging into my shoulder.
A broken skeleton, and a boy who never glued me back together.