Your eyes tell stories
more fictitious than
the Disney movies
I grew up watching.
Where tales of heroism
and unfailing love
filled my mind
with a tangible hope
that penetrated my soul
And the same one
that I cling to
now in solace
while I lie in my bed
convincing myself
of just the opposite.

That fairytales don't exist.
That the look in your eyes
is a lie.
And that although in the deepest
crevice of my heart,
and in the gut
of my bottomless stomach
I know
you feel at least something,
I will forever
deem it unattainable.

Because Mr. Disney
didn't write my life story
and I am no princess
nor you a Prince Charming.
And those tales of
happy endings
and true love
are for people
who are afraid of
a rocky road
and an uncertain future.
Snow White was helpless.
Cinderella had no backbone,
And the truth is
we are all beasts
in need of a Belle.
So if there's one thing
I can request of you love,
it is that the next time
you look at me
from across the room
with that gaze that re-ignites
hope in my soul,
it is that you do so
with eyes like hers,
pure and untainted
void of selfishness
and fear.

Because deep down
I will always be
that little girl
sitting in front of the tv screen
believing wholeheartedly
that one day that tale will be mine.

My hands tremble.
My insides turn outside.
My brain goes blank.
And every part of me
that was so sure and firm
is like the bowl of instant pudding
that hasn't set in the fridge long enough.

You don't just make
my body feel weak,
you make it feel foreign.
Like these past 23 years of my life
were spent on the moon
and now I'm finally coming
back down to Earth.

Maybe one day I'll tell you.
Or maybe I won't.
But either way, the effect
you have on me
could make a blind man see again.
Because even with my eyes closed
I see you all the time.

Here's my heart
I'll give it to you
Over and over again

Here are my tears
I left them on my
Cheeks for you

Here are my nights
They belong
To you anyway

Here are my mornings
I couldn't even
Rescue those

Here is my promise
I'll never leave you

Here is where you'll never be.

In her eyes
I see nothing
But feel everything

Her aura is so tangible
It singes the hair on my arms
And ****** the bottom of my feet
Like shards of glass

This world is big
And I am small
But one glance from her
Lights my insides on fire

The flames so fierce
They could burn
This whole city
To the ground

When I look at her
I don't ever. see. her.
I feel her.

I’m a ******* for love,
I couldn’t give you up

Sweeter dreams of yesterday
Are a lust that’s gone today

I’m a ******* for love
I gave my all not to give you up

Writing rhymes of wondrous romance
Trapped in feelings like a trance

I’m a ******* for love
Take the beating, give a hug

It’s only masochism when not returned
And believe me, girl, I’ll take the burn

A body that is bruised
Can indefinitely still be whole

What matters the most
Is the condition of your soul

Purity and peace
Hopefulness on bending knees

All these things you don’t possess
That you still never took from me.

I could've loved you
a thousand times over
and a million sleeps under
my soft, pleading sheets.

In a field far away from here
I'd lay you down gently
and pick the thorns from your memory

wipe the leaves from your face
and the tears from your cheek
until the only thing left to feel
is me.

I'd read you poetry
and maybe even tell you a story
of this girl who showed me

that love is a mystery
bought out by long histories
I spoke to you delicacies
even my tongue didn't believe.
But now that you're not next to me
showering me with broken dreams
I think it's time to change my sheets.

I want you I want you I want you
There's nothing else I can make
myself say
No other words that escape my mouth

Your mouth.
I want it I want it I want it
I daydream about what it feels like
Buried beneath your lips

Is it possible to want something so bad
You need it

All drug addicts say this I'm sure
But I'm not an addict
And you're not a drug

You're the apple of my eye
And apples are healthy
Right?

I pick you I pick you I pick you
I don't care if you have worms
Or you're not quite in season

You taste like perfection to me

Taste you taste you taste you
I don't want to taste anyone else
But you

So want me want me want me
And pick me pick me pick me

Or let me let me let me
Go

Yesterday we had our first fight.
My heart was beating so fast
I was sure you could hear it.
But it was the craziest feeling.
I am still reeling over it.
Because amidst my anger
another emotion was so prominent
and so unequivocally there
that I'm not sure if my face
looked more frustrated or surprised.

It was passion.
Do not be mistaken,
I knew it was there.
But not like this.
If I were aware of its ability
to manifest itself in such ways,
I would've run so far away from you
that the only anger left in that bar
would've belonged to you.

But my subconscious has clearly been lying to me.

So here I am,
a physical mess.
Anxious, confused, sad.
All because fighting with you
Has extracted more feeling from my body
than any normal conversation
with someone else.

It kills me that these things
you will never know.
But lying here
in this pool of emotions,
I am acutely aware that
you don't deserve to know them.