but it isn't fair
that even when she wants him she can't have him
he can't pound his hips into hers
he can't tell her how he loves how she speaks
he can't wipe away the tears
he can't dampen her skin with the heavy hold of his touch
he can't hear about her sultry thoughts
because he no longer is going to wait
he can't wait on a girl who is ****** up
even when she wants him
to be the one
to **** her up

Night is a witch in disguise.
When the playful sun joins hand with it's faithful blue and falls to the other side, the dark has come out to play.
It is her turn to run wild.
Clouds from her crystal ball ooze from it's glass, finding way to it's victims.
Omniscient to our every move, she understands our weaknesses.
The enticing allurement drips from her finger tips.
We are offered vices mostly in her power hours.
She's mixed our fates into a cauldron, laughing at our petty emotions.
And as she laughs - I think it's funny how they say we can't see in the dark, yet people reveal the most in the spell of the night.
Nobody understands the ways of the eve.

He's put her up on a cross.

She doesn't go to church like everyone else.
She doesn't wear a dress for Easter like everyone else.
She doesn't recite the same verses like everyone else.
She doesn't have the mimicked ideas they all borrow.

In class she doesn't get the allusion to the bible.
She must research.
Though in class there's a boy who says her name sweetly.
In class there's a boy who took her out on a date.
In class there's a boy who took a chance on the girl in all black.
In class there's a boy who whispered all his passions into the palm of her hand.
Will you still love me in the morning?

Standing in the corridors of the temple he knows so well,
he becomes acquainted with the illusion he pushed away.
It is forbidden to love her.
For she is not on the same page as they all are when the service is in place.

He loses the sense of morality.
He doesn't understand her version of faith.
He distrusts in all of her arguments.
He believes she's tricked him into loving her.
He concludes that he couldn't have loved her on his own.
She tricked him.
This isn't him. It just can't be him.
He crushes her bones.
He ignores her screams.
He finishes his prayer.

And there she dangled, his eyes angled up to her own.

He put her on the cross.

I remember your laugh.
I remember your lost taste in words.
I remember your love for that pop punk band that invited you to pity parties.
I remember nights spent talking to you, instead of getting sleep.

I try not to remember those the most.

I remember how excited we were to see one another.
I remember your wit the first time we met.
I remember that you were going to be my first.
I remember the Kapowski top I rushed to buy you.

I still remember shakily scanning my card through the register.

I remember the first night you didn't answer my call.
I remember worrying I had done something wrong.
I remember learning her name.
I remember drinking in spite of your hatred towards it.
I remember wearing that top, laughing and screaming and dancing and crying and wanting to rip it to shreds.
I remember heading to return it, answering in monotone when asked,
"Is there anything wrong with the top?"
"No. I just don't like it any more."

I still remember learning her name.
I still think it's beautiful.
Just like how you didn't think I was.
I will always ******* remember.

they tell her that they like her new blouse
they like her shoes with the holes
the skirt hanging on her waist
the bow on her head screaming youth
but does anyone like her heart?

the director of my life
didn't watch enough
romantic comedies

is it normal
to grow deathly afraid
of the bacteria in your throat
is it normal
to pleasure your system
when you don't even smoke
is it normal
to be in love with the warmth
when it knocks you out
is it normal
to space out in class
and live in the clouds
is it normal
to dream about him
though he doesn't know your name
no, i guess
it's not normal
but should i be ashamed?