I have always been a **** up
And a dreamer.

How could I be cold when
I'm on fire with passion
It burns through life to char
What doesn't belong.
Turns it to ash so it will
blow away in the wind-
Leaving in the absences
space to flourish for
Everything that's right.
Vibrant with new life
What's left to grow,
Determined to let the
Best in me represent
The rest of me.

passes
in a flash of famous last words.
An extravagant way of
going out in style
that is only witnessed
by those stargazers,
spread out amongst
layers of blankets,
that are lucky enough
to be watching
without
blinking.

I love the stories
that make the world what it is.
When Peter looked at Wendy
and even considered
Growing up for her
Well.
That was love.
And I wanted it.

I’ve always known
Our love was NOT a classic novel.
It was a short story.
And a **** good one.
I’ll read it over and over again
until I’m old and grey.

However, he is but a chapter in my life.
The exciting love interest
Who you sort of root for
because that love is so beautiful in the moment
But when someone else comes along
You like him better
Because he’s so genuine and loyal
You just wish he wasn’t a piece a fiction
So that you could have him.

I think maybe
We’re supposed to have the fireworks
(Ephemeral as they are)
So we understand how wonderful
Having the actual fire is.

The air was cold
was freezing.
The air was like ice
But the cigarette warmed everything
Your lungs
Your finger
Your conversations.

Eventually it kills you
like everything else does
But it's cheaper then a woman.

Words don't mean a thing when your body's my language,
and our words sound better when there pressed together
My heart can't keep up with my fingers. They're all over you.
What i'm feeling is your body, that emotion is true.
I can't take this any more. What have we got to loose?
Hold your tongue, baby, or i can hold it for you.