once a boy told me my eyes remind him of the ocean and i thought to myself what the **** is this boy high on. he then continued to explain that my eyes arent the kind of coffee brown that you could stare at while you slowly stir. my eyes werent the brown dirt of forests that he would set on fire just lovingly watch them burn. my eyes are like the ocean not because they are blue but because "have you ever tried to describe the ocean to a room full of blind?" he asked and i was still not sure what he was onto "well you cant because they cant grasp the idea the serenity of that picture you are describing to them because there is so much to it and thats what it is like with your eyes i can never fully grasp what it is but i can never gaze too long because it feels like they'd swallow me whole and i would always imagine what it would be like to describe your eyes to a room full of blind" then i understood what love was.

they say opposites attract,
but then,
how are we in contact?
we met in the same hiding place, with walls up to our embrace.
same empty wells on our faces
same invisible threads on our lips
slouched posture
boney hips.
i was a blank canvas of a girl and you were a boy who liked to spill your ink on ****** white pages.
i was painfully boring and you were the ruins after a hurricane.
you had stars for eyes and flames that licked your lips like you were the only wildfire out there and i was nothing but a crack on a sidewalk.
you had every natural disaster dancing on your fingertips and i was dying for you  to touch me.
but your palms only sweat when you daydreamed about kissing me and i was infatuated with your dreamy eyes
you  kept galaxies in your palms just to give me a sense of home every time we held hands.
silly boy hasnt anybody told you death doesnt have a home.
hand in hand we are filthy image to them they try to **** us
but you spill anything about us to anyone that would read
according to you there wasn't any us, ink all over paper yet never any love
they asked you if you ever loved someone you said you never really cared
seems like i was the air you breathed in but coughed out as dust instead.

i am very good at putting names to faces and i am naked in your bedroom.
its too cold outside and there are people arguing in Portuguese i stand where i can hear them and you sit on the bed with your hands shaking trying to grasp some sanity from the air.
my favorite thing about you is that you don't have internet connection.
im in love with four boys who tried to shove their poetry down my throat but i know none of their names.
i know yours is wildfire and i am naked in your bedroom.
i can tell you i hate you in every single language and you would understand, not because we have some sort of magical connection but you are a linguist.
some words change from language to another but your name doesn't. your skin is ablaze, your eyes are small embers, every part of you is a wildfire.
im good at putting names to faces and you are good at putting yours to mine.

we maybe similar but we aren't the same. synonyms know each other like old colleagues, like a set of friends who've seen the world together. they swap stories, reminisce about their origin and forgot that though they are similar they are entirely different. because a quiet night is not the same as a silent one, a firm soul is not the same as a steady one and bright light is not the same as a brilliant one. i force myself to believe so because the way these words wedge themselves into a sentence changes everything.
we maybe similar but we are not the same. we both seek a home in someones chest because the houses we came from were built on nothing but shattered whisky bottles and lies. i guess the stomach drop i felt when you looked at me was your first step in making a home of my heart. but i tear myself down and i can never piece myself together fast enough because my heart has been stepped on and my chest has been ripped wide open leaving my scars on display. more often than sometimes my heart refuses to stay in place. though we both have thoughts made of our mothers shouts at 3 am you slowly implode while i violently explode.

get scared it will do you good.
smoke a bit stare at a blank ceiling, beat your head against the wall, refuse to see people, paint and write. get scared some more. allow your little mind to do nothing but function. make loneliness a friend let it sit by you in the dark and stroke you hair as you sleep allow it to lie to and next to you. doubt, doubt everything and everyone
do i
don't i
should i
wont i
stay inside-go-outside doesn't matter what you do; but stay scared as hell.