entice me with your language
not  your body but your soul
****** me with your words
sounds of trumpets as a whole
words, rolling off your tongue like Dew on blades of grass
not the typical talk and whispers of your amazing ***
challenge me and contradict
please lets keep this real
do not agree on everything
nevertheless of how you feel
see your mind is what is left, and ultimately the hook
lets talk of music, art and good times past and maybe even a book

****** me with your cleverness
caress me with your wit
to hear such entrancing thoughts has left me quite a bit - entangled in your uneasy tone, but frazzled evermore
completely distraught on how you taught me to leave things at the door

make love to my deepest thoughts, delusions, and desires
for that excites me more than all the daring red hot fires

sitting here
staring at these boring beige walls
with someone staring back at me
as I try to put my thoughts into words
don't sound stupid
no desperation
no neediness
no attention
being analyzed is an interesting thing
because you can feel the ****
of knowledgable eyes in your brain
so your walls go up
stop staring at me
because help doesn't exist
when you don't want it
and there is no cure
for the monsters in my brain
tearing
ripping
clawing at my psyche
whispering
sweet nothings into my subconscious
bland, practiced words stream out of my mouth
bubbling over with the dull tone of indifference
boredom
and ultimately,
cringe-worthy sadness.
if only you could actually understand
that the monsters are my friends
their darkness inspires me
reminds me of the heaven
found six feet below my own heels
now I'm standing,
with a rehearsed smile on my mask
and a hollow 'thank you'
before I return to the beige walls

I stand still in this room, to look across at you, and grin.
You don't have to understand what this means...
You make me re-evaluate my values.
I'm not sure what this feeling is without the butterflies...
And the heart-stops... and the blushing cheeks.
I don't know this girl who lets you scrunch her face.
And laughs... and plays... and doesn't plan every single second...
I don't think you understand the significance,
Of my words, of my relaxed disposition...
I don't look at clocks when I am around you.

I don't need your affections every minute...
Co-dependency has become enjoyment of company.
Sleeping alone isn't empty, next to you is simply a perk.
Sleeping with you, not a demand, but a pleasure.
Who is this girl, grinning at you across the room...
Letting you tickle her sides... telling you truths
TRUTHS... I don't think you understand the significance of that word...
Of MY words. There are no walls in my words. (only in my chest)
And "I Love You's" aren't spilling from my lips.
And I don't think we understand the significance of that.

I fall hard, blindly, way too quickly.
But I'm not falling right now. I'm standing here, eyes WIDE open.
I see all of you, and I wait... and patience is not a characteristic of mine.
And I don't think you understand the significance of this...
I feel something is happening here...
A realization; one I had read somewhere in a Jonathan Safran Foer novel.
About falling in love so ordinarily, that you begin to think it isn't love at all...
But something much more ordinary.
And.. this is different... but what it is evades me.
I can't diagnose this as "the real thing," because I only know what the "real" thing is not...

Being away from you isn't painful, it just isn't preferred.
I like that I don't have to hold my breath when we're apart.
But, I feel my facade fall away when I walk through your door.
As if there is no need for pretenses in a room with you...
I'm not that girl, and I don't want you to think I am...
I want to use big words, and giggle at their superfluity.
Let you laugh at my pretentiousness- a misnomer- as I'm not faking anything at all.

I like that I look at you... and I don't know exactly what you're thinking.
And I don't think you understand the significance of that...
Control, let go... and I'm not terrified...
And I don't feel like a half, not quite a whole...
But, I'm learning how to be, and who to be...
And I simply have the pleasure of having you along for the journey.

I'm afraid I don't understand the significance of...
    these words, of the realization that you will read them...
        that you will try to qualify each adjective... and understand each verb...
And dissect me...
    and I will try to explain, a kindness I so rarely attempt...
        and I might not make any sense, and I might not know how you feel...
And... I might just be fine with not knowing.

I might just stand, and grin, and not tell you why.
But, not for not knowing,
But... for not needing to understand.

Yet.

Hiding behind these eyes is my world.
My world of hurt and pain.
And when I want to give up
Of life
Of living
These eyes bring me back.
My future is my sober
My past my abuse
My present is my rehab
Sometimes I just want to
Swim
In these eyes until
All my pain is gone
Too bad that's just a fantasy.

The Fear
Of you leaving,
Is too much for me.

The Fear
Of one day,
Losing all our memories.

The Fear
Of being separated,
In two different worlds.

The Fear
Of not reaching you,
Or being left unheard.

The Fear
That you'll forget me,
And swiftly move on.

The Fear
Of realising that,
This battle cannot be won.

The Fear
Of admitting that,
You're the one that makes me smile.

The Fear
Of saying 'for you,
I'd walk a thousand miles'.

The Fear
Of being called stupid,
And you thinking it too.

The Fear
Of confessing that,
I really love you.

But all these **Fears
Have come around,
As if all truth,
Has been found.
You hold her hand,
Instead of mine.
You kiss her lips,
Like its all fine.
You look through me,
Like I'm a ghost.
The memories have vanished,
That I treasured the most.
All I've lost,
Was it ever even found.
Now my heart lies shattered,
All over the ground  
You look at me,
All love is gone.
That's when I realise,
That The Fear has won.

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

i used to go to my grandmother's house during the summer
and in her backyard, behind all the trees
was a river
some days it'd be weak
sitting still without interruption
some days it'd be violent
crashing against the bank
and one day
i was laying by the river
watching it flow by to somewhere i couldn't see
and i stuck my hand in the water
and it rushed between my finger tips
i heard my grandmother shout,
"try to hold the river back"
and i laughed "i can't do that grandma"
and i pulled my hand out

a year after i went to my grandmother's house for the summer
and in her back yard some of the trees
had snapped and fallen over
but there was still the river
and it was gentle
i kneeled down by the river
and stuck my hand in the water
it danced around my finger tips
and i shouted
i can hold the river back grandma
and she smiled softly, "that's lovely"
and she walked out

today i went to my grandma's house
and in her back yard the trees
were rotting away and everything was silent
but there was still the river
as if it absorbed every bit of life that had once existed around it
and it was thrashing viciously
like a dog wanting to be let from its cage
and i stood staring at the water
and thought of summer
i heard myself saying
"try to hold your river back"
and i couldn't

I could have made a time capsule out of you.
If I had kept the cork from the first bottle of wine we spent an hour trying to open with a fork,
Or bottled the drops of sweat that spilt from my hand into yours on our first date.
If I was insane -
I’d have stolen your copy of that French movie we didn’t even pretend to watch.
I would have mourned the loss of the sharpie you used to write my name on your arm.
The clinical definition of insanity is -
I would have recorded the one-eyed “good morning”s that slid out through your perfect snaggle-tooth.
Doing the same thing over -
I’d have frozen my face at the moment when you told me to just use your toothbrush because our mouths were already friends.
And over -
But then I’d have the weeks of silence you screamed at me.
Again -
Until finally all evidence of you faded from me.
Expecting a different outcome.  
And the most pathetic part is that if I had made that time capsule, I would be the worst time capsule owner in the world. I’d open it every day and pretend it was all happening over and over again.