Did it ever occur to you,
That energy is never destroyed, only conserved,
Transferred and passed down,
Turning into heat,
So that after you're gone,
And the bed is empty,
I can still feel the pressure of it
All of it is still here, clinging to my aching bones

i was made to love
such was my programming.
but every system has flaws
and when my love catches fire
and blazes into the sky
pulling my heart out with it
i retreat
i get scared
how do i love again
when it has cost me so much
how do i deny my makings
when there is a glitch in the system
how do i fix myself
when the damage has been done by foreign hands
there are no instructions
at least not in a language i understand.
no one can help me
but
me.
but i dont trust myself anymore
and so i am stuck.
i try to be loving
i try to go back
but in trying i am hurting
because you dont deserve it
because i put myself at risk again anyway

Will you love me when I'm 80
When I walk and talk real slow?
Will you love my wrinkles
If I let them show?
Will you hold me every night
And kiss me in the morning light?
And when I see my last sunrise
Will you hold me when I die?

We'll meet again
Behind the sunset
The light of dawn
The hues of blue and pink
We'll meet again

We'll meet again
Behind a bookshelf
Behind a swinging door
Behind your eyelid moves
I see you and
We'll meet again

And when we meet again
Tell me how you feel
When we meet again

We are all born human beings
Born with hearts half filled
And fingers separated
Sealed lips meant for smiles
And eyes blinded at birth
Yet we grow to realize
That we are beings that are worth
More than the flaws that we are
And the scars that we have
The loneliness we succumb to
The sadness we abuse
We are human beings
Whose hearts are are yet to be filled
Fingers left to be intertwined with another
And eyes yet to see the love
We truly deserve
And that one heart
We are made for
That other

n.j.

You are just a prop in her life, Cody.
You are there to help her work through things.

That's great; one problem.
I am not a dishrag.

I do not serve as a free form of therapy.
I am not just a service to help girls learn about themselves.

I have feelings.
I get attached.
I want reciprocation.
I want affection.

Sometimes I'm the one who needs help.
Sometimes I am not just satisfied with knowing I helped.

I am not your valet.
I am not your counselor.
I am not your validation on demand.

I cannot even fathom why you think can just take.
It's because I can't give, Cody.
If you can't give, why do you think it's ok to take?

I will not always be ok.
I won't always get over it.
I won't just understand why you can't be there for me.

I am not just a rock to be your stability.
I am not just a blanket to give you comfort.

I am not a flipping dishrag.

She bought herself flowers.
I wanted to cry.

She bought herself flowers.
I had to bite my tongue.

She bought herself flowers.
I had to remember that I can't.

She bought herself flowers.
I hoped he noticed.

She bought herself flowers.
I wished he would be inspired to change.

She bought herself flowers,
Looked at me,
And gave me a look that said that she knew
That they would be from me.

She bought herself flowers,
And my restraints fell away.

She bought herself flowers,
And I stopped wanting to play nice.

She bought herself flowers
Because she is dying inside.

She bought herself flowers
Because she cannot be mine.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.