Wait, go back
Go back!
It's not over yet!
It didn't end like this.
I know it. I know it.

I know this story,
I've read these lines.
Next you're supposed to say
"                           "
Or some other witty, beautiful words
that drown me in my guilt.
And I'll just stutter and stammer
and trip over my words like
that time in May
when you tripped on that root
on our hike in New Hampshire.

I hand you a lollipop.

What the ****! Why
would I hand her a lollipop?

I hand you a bleeding heart
and you examine it.
You **** it.
You write your name on it and
carefully - HAH! - horrendously you force it down my throat.
Swallow.

But after all of this,
I still know that in this twisted
***-backwards, convoluted world
I am still head over heels for you.
I'm still the same, perfectly sane, guy you knew before.

Ribbit.

I would kiss you
until the stars threw themselves from the heavens
and begged to be clothed in flesh and blood
that they might burn
as brightly as we.

Once there was an extrovert who dreamed of keeping her cool
But when the guests arrived and the room bubbled
with possible stories to tell and comments to make
her wall-flower capabilities shed like snake skin
and her voice stirred the crowd
and they all swore that the weather
was controlled by her breath
pushing out words.

Once there was an extrovert who dreamed of being cool,
okay, maybe not really. Maybe just a little.
The type of cool that says they aren't but are
but she was too loud
and extrovert-ed
and her cool divorced her body a really long time ago.

Once there was an extrovert who wanted to be
the reflection of everything introvert
totally wasn't, so she spoke up
and her petals fell from her neck
onto the ground and were trampled on,
and the wall-paper started to tear
off her shoulders, and in fact
it wasn't sticking at all.

It felt kind of nice.

Last night I dreamed of roughened hands,
And pristine walls with spackled sand,
And feeling less,
But wanting more,
Of windows open,
And a creaking door.

Last night I dreamed of voices mild,
And smiling faces, and laughter loud,
I dreamed of grackles in parkling lots,
Of finding familiar and imagining what.

I dreamed of witchcraft and of lore,
And linen hidden in a dresser drawer.

I dreamed of you,
I dreamed of you,
And all the things I'd like to do.

I will be happy or I won't
I will succeed or I shan't
but I'll be ****** if I don't try
and if you dare to ask me why
I'll tell you time is on my side

And I have had just enough to know
that I'll have more to reach and grow
and in the end, it's all the same
for we all die early.

I will be happy or I won't
on that day I see the end
I will have a final answer
that my life will build and mend.

But for now I'm glad to know
Oh Lord, it is good to know
that time will always be on my side.

I will be happy or I won't
but I'll be ****** if I don't try.

forlorn nights in cold, dark homes
dying embers of a life once known
pools of thought cloud the mind
time is meaningless;
we all will die

there's no light
save for the stars,
glowing escorts to the beyond
always gazing
always bright
waiting to be wished upon every night

countless people across the world
watch the stars and wait to behold
a greater truth;
a pure beauty,
a solemn confirmation
that someone,
somewhere,
is looking up at the same stars,
taking in the same wonders
posing the same questions


feeling the same *loneliness

Your name is the loveliest word
I've ever said. In my life
I've never known someone like you.
Your aura is a quilt
that I could spend all day in
if you'd let me.
I think the chances of me meeting
another you are absurd
and I find the whole idea
to be terrifying.
I could make so much room
for you in my heart.