i’m afraid that someone will meet my lips and taste stale cereal and close the lid. i’m afraid someone will open my heart and reveal cobwebs and old books about death and that i will have to explain and decorate, apologizing under my breath and they will never feel at home. i crave human affection in every way but i’m afraid my skin feels like sandpaper and my eyes are an abyss of the razors from my past and my tongue is nothing but a loaded gun with bad aim. people want soft grass and dandelions and cotton scented bed sheets and i am a splinter in the fingertip of their love.

i'm afraid i am nothing but a vampire who ***** the life out of anything that looks my way. i'm afraid that my nightmares will become reality and i will be the villain. i'm afraid that my bed will feel like spikes under his back. i'm afraid my demons will begin to haunt him if he gets too close. i'm so afraid that my knives will dull and it will be more painful than i intended. no one wants a destructive person to hold their ******* hand.

i'm afraid that i am none of these things and that my eyes will turn red at midnight. but even more so, i am afraid he will still find me beautiful and that i will **** him.

She was the kind of girl
Worth dancing with
     In the middle of the living room
To the music
Of late night television.

She was the kind of girl
Who made the sky dizzy
     Whenever it looked down at her
Because she was
More vast than the sea.

She was the kind of girl
You wanted to kiss
     In each and every snow drift
Because her lips
Were warmer than any jacket.

She was the kind of girl
Who held you at night
     And whose arms lingered
Because when she was gone
You still felt her around you.

She was the kind of girl
People drag themselves
     From their beds and walk to work
Because they needed to care
For a necessity like her.

She was the kind of girl
Who made you trip over
     Words you wished were nearly as lovely as her,
Because she was the embodiment
Of all you ever wanted to say

To swoon the stars and put the moon in your back pocket.

Don't ask me how we met,
I'll just say "god's will"
It was 2 pm and you were drunk,
And I had just taken a handful of pills.

The coffee shop was empty besides faces I couldn't see,
When you stumbled a little more closely and melted into me.

I think I ordered something,
But we were tired and left,
You fell asleep in my lap,
While I listened to your breath.

The wind moved slowly and picked up the leaves,
Licking sugar off the spoon of love and full moon eve's.

There was a song on the radio that reminded me of your head,
All the madness running inside it,
Too much madness to ever be dead.

I think we got home okay
because we're on our fifty fourth date,
And I'm making my baby a pie,
To celebrate the time we met and managed not to die.

we are
a rough draft
covered in eraser dust
and pencil shavings.

you and i
are an exciting almost
and a thrilling what if
with so much potential
yet sketched
with so much
uncertainty.

probably one day
when the time is right
and we both have worked
towards being
the best versions
of ourselves
the marks we make
will remain
permanent.

but until then,
my hands tremble
as i think about
inking in
the light outlines
left by lead,
for i might ruin
our perfect maybe.

I desire to be known,
But I fear when they get too close.
I desire to be found,
But I fear what they'll say when they see what (who) they found.