When I consider, pro and con,
What things my love is built upon--
A curly mouth; a sinewed wrist;
A questioning brow; a pretty twist
Of words as old and tried as sin;
A pointed ear; a cloven chin;
Long, tapered limbs; and slanted eyes
Not cold nor kind nor darkly wise--
When so I ponder, here apart,
What shallow boons suffice my heart,
What dust-bound trivia capture me,
I marvel at my normalcy.

12:37 AM
do you ever wake up wondering whether the stars watch us

12:37 AM
like reverse stargazing

12:37 AM
do you think they see us like we see them or

12:38 AM
are we more familiar to them

12:38 AM
than the other way around



2:49 AM
hey you know what

2:49 AM
i think we're not so differ

2:49 AM
different

2:50 AM
us and the stars

2:52 AM
maybe you can tell me what you think when you meet them



3:17 AM
remember that one time jupiter swung down for the moon?

3:18 AM
i saw no stars that night



5:10 AM
you told me once that i'd forgotten to count the galaxies

5:12 AM
and i told you that

5:12 AM
the night before

5:13 AM
i'd never stopped counting



8:02 PM
don't you ever wonder what it would feel like

8:03 PM
to look down on the earth

8:27 PM
from the milky way?

8:40 PM*
don't you ever wonder why we never will?

A moment with you,
my dear,
is enough.
One sip of you fills my soul
but, oh, how I wish
I could drink the whole cup.

I could be brave,
Or at least I could try.
Lord knows I've had a lot of practise.
I could be stubborn.
I could match your decibels.
I could cry.
I could listen.
I could do damage or be damaged
If I thought it's what you wanted.
I could sing your favourite song,
Admit that I was wrong,
Be weak, or be strong.
I could plead, pray, or beg.
I could hold my head high.
But I could never be yours could I?

really how sweet is the rose that ****** one to many times?
You know the one that wilts but never dies
thinking its over you go to see if its all rite
but how sweet is the rose that makes you cry
bring her some flowers
act like you love her
see if she wants to get back together
you've pricked her small finger
still her heart lingers
because what is a rose without its thorns
She reverts back to the written not spoken to speak
because to her feelings she hides them to keep
just to keep you around and to see your bright eyes
but how sweet is the rose that only ****** and never dies?