Love with you is farts
no make-up
ugly sleeping face
and attitude
so. much. attitude.

It's you knowing which foods make my stomach hurt
but giving them to me anyways
when I ask

It's you laughing when I say
"I'm not hungry"
or when I'm stomping around
angry about some shoes

It's you still thinking I'm pretty with 4 new zits
or at the barber shop when he only has part of my fade done
and the kisses on my freshly shaved head when its finally finished

Love with you is your uncanny sense of knowing when I need reassurance
my daily affirmation provider
"You are smart"
"You are ****"
"You are everything"

It's you being a father to my children
the sassy grey tabby
and the sweet fluffy siamese

It's excessive PDA
feeding...spilling on each other, stealing drinks, and ****** grabs
the ability to make everyone around uncomfortable
as we love, touch, and (mostly) argue in our own little world

It's life-changing, mind-blowing, earth-shattering
and mundane
all at the same time
Simply, because you know too much excitement makes me tired

Love with you is the greatest gift this life has ever given me
and it's only the beginning

I am hard
and soft

He melts me
like putty in his hand
And shines me
like gold

I am old
and young

He makes me
giggle
Sweaty
as I try and pin him down

I am scared
and comfortable

He kisses my neck
says "you're beautiful"
So I stand before him bare
no clothes
no make-up

I am sad
and in love

He makes my heart soar
piece itself back together
Just a little different than before

I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"

When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

I enjoy your invasion of my thoughts
Long late night talks
Boy, you make me hot
I yearn for your touch
The feeling of when its all too much
Curl my toes, and bite my lip
As my nails graze along your hip

That would have been enough
Just your sweet physical touch
But you unleashed it on my mind
A part of me I never thought I'd find

Reemerged

I do not care

All I remember is you playing with my hair
Legs on your lap
Stealing glaces at me
My god what a trap
Glorious in it's making
My heart was yours for the taking
In dark apartment corners
I thought I was special
Legs intertwined just like a pretzel
But that was never the case
No matter how sweet the embrace
All it was was *******

And I do not care

I stare at the screen
Willing myself not to reply
But I always do, always for you

What if you meant it this time
What if I don't get another chance
What if, What if, What if

When I know had I ignored
You would have adored
Subconsciously falling for my resistance

A love with no real substance