I hate how my chest tightens when I see you I hate how my heart speeds up I hate how all the blood rushes to my cheeks I hate how your smile can make me happy in seconds I hate how you talk about her I hate your hands and how perfect they feel intertwined with mine I hate when your talking about your life and your eyes light up I hate when you run your hands through your hair I hate how cute you are I hate how you're all I think about I hate how you don't think of me I hate myself I hate you I hate how I don't hate you

I love you

                                                               r.n

Last night I smiled for the first time
Caught in a moment of true delight
Your words were like a conductor  leading an orchestra into the night.

Last night you made me smile
Your words were like watching a magic show or a bird taking flight.

Last night you made me come alive
You painted the picture  of flying to the moon and making my dreams feel like fireflies dancing into the dark.

Last night I found you

I can't breathe
I'm suffocating
It hurts
My chest is on fire
It hurts it hurts
It hurts
My thoughts are a mess
It hurts I'm a mess
It hurts

Seeing you with her

                                                            ­   r.n

She looses her mind on a daily basis
Leaving it behind in a formation of scribbles.
She carries stories woven in the dark
Like uncoordinated patterns of light.
Sounds that move as graceful figures
Simple symbols, nothing but scribbles.

Endorsed across these hollow lines
All you interpret are scribbles.

But these "scribbles" are her aim
Her far aspiration; everyday devotion.

Do you not see the avidity, when she takes creation?
Are you that ignorant towards these "scribbles"?

DEAR, THIS IS SOMETHING BEYOND THAT!
You see, words are a weapon against those you resemble.
You see, this ink is her weapon, and how she adores it.
You'll be aghast! When her passion, her "scribbles"
Prevail.

If wishes were horses, this baby prince would ride,
to cloud-cuckoo land with chocolates on side.

Would pierce the balloon-like moon-bag
with my magic stick,
bathing in twinkling stars slipping
from busted moon.

If wishes were cakes, this cherub would eat,
to fill the little tummy with tons and tons of sweet.

Would sit inside the angel’s kitchenette
and swallow all the cheese,
chewing all the crispy cookies
even without any teeth.

If wishes were ocean, this baby prince would swim,
to mermaid -fairy land, too deep with princess Kim.

Would rest on the bed of soft and fluffy coral reef,
dreaming of the earthly lands, flower and green leaf.

If wishes were games, this baby prince would bounce,
to touch the ocean bed from surface on green ground.

Would play hide and seek with salmon and clownfish,
piggybacking the seahorse and accomplish each wish.