And I'm sorry that I can't be what you want me to be. But why try
to change me? Why not just leave instead of wanting me to
become someone else?
But I don't want you to leave; so I'll keep changing myself
to be exactly what you'd prefer.
My eyes will never be hazel (I know you'd love me forever, then) they're only boring old brown
And my hair will never be perfectly wavy (you'd never even think of leaving me, then) I've got a wild nest of tangled curls
but I can always paint my nails red
and stay pretty
(You might still leave me, then)
Infinite as galaxies unexplored,
nameless for the colours of beauties unknown,
a frozen moment pondering a description.
A silent breath that escapes your lungs
during the intervals where I breathe you in.
I want to capture what you are in my hands
so that I can examine intimately
I want to lay you open so that I can see
all that you are.
- a complex mixture of bone, muscle,
a pounding heartbeat, electrical impulses
specifically designed to be
I feel like writing a poem
But instead I think I'd rather just stare
at you all day
and listen to your voice
lull me into a land where it's just
you and me.
Something about you makes me
do some incredible things,
and look -
here's a poem about you.
and I wish with my entire being
that I could go back in time
and return to that
making daisy chains with her daddy
I feel the overwhelming need
to grab the closest pen
Write about all that is in my mind,
to write about all that is consuming my
to write about the people
that are living inside me.
But I don't.
Instead, I think about it all,
I listen to music
And I read.
I stare at the ceiling and I talk to my pets.
There's nothing wrong with this.
I will write about it all. Eventually.
You see, I'm a writer.
And sometimes the beauty is not in the writing,
but in ourselves.
I want to be able to show you the empty places in my soul.
To show you the space
the wide expanse
that has been longing for you.
And here you are
- and what an excitement to know that
you love my abyss
I was going through a time when I felt incredibly empty and alone, and I wrote this to remind myself that someone loves me and all that I am. That I'm not as bad as I think I am.
When the summer dripped through my fingers
Like the last drops
Of the ocean on my skin
he smiled at me, a sweet and warm smile,
"Love my sweet Winter for me"
So the cold winds approached
And the leaves withered, died, and were cast away
And Winter mourned
Knowing the deaths written because of her name
But I, following the whispered guidance of my favourite passing time,
cold nights wrapped in warmth
the icy winds pushing me closer to those near to my heart
the harsh tear drops which refreshed, replenished, revived my dry and barren soul
And Winter, noticing the love
Warmed up a little each day
And on her last day
Breathed a warm sigh
And whispered, "I love you, and thank you for loving me"