those skeletons you sleep with
are all half alive
but you've still got that half dead
look in your eyes
those skeletons you sleep with
aren't the type you can hide.

the scars on my wrist don't mean i wanted death, you see.
it just means this life wasn't quite bright enough for me.

this must be what
heaven feels like-
my hand is holding onto
your arm
and my head is on your
shoulder
and your hair is brushing
against my cheek
and it's soft
as we're walking.

we talk about little things
but if you felt my heartbeat
it would say everything.
it's racing with nerves
and messy feelings because
i've dreamed of this for
some time.

you know,
wrote poems, made playlists,
turned feelings into art,
because that's what i do.
but no art could come close
to doing you
justice.

i could write for ages
and still not come close to describing
how i'm bursting with butterflies and
feel like i've been brought to life and
how even as my entire body is
nervous i'm also calm as a low tide that's
still touching the horizon
it thought it was too low
to reach.

i'm so afraid
of what comes next,
after the intense emotions and feeling high
after the thoughts of you being my lullaby.
(honestly i've fallen asleep thinking of you
smiling because of you,
every freaking night.)

but what if this is all
just a dream of mine
and it hasn't really come true?
what if i wake up to find,
that i have seemed to
have lost you?

i keep replaying
the way you said my name nervously,
the way your voice sounded
when you said you had a crush
on me, the way i wanted
to cry because my dreams never
ever come true the way i want them to.

so this must not be real.

but it feels so real, babe,
and that's what scares me the most.

i'm probably not going to sleep.
(i know i should but i won't)

so i'll just listen
to mixtapes

and think about this flower
that's blooming,

and how the way you say my name
makes me want to hold your hand.