I'm writing this while you're passed out on the couch,
Hoping the clicking of these keys won't cause your breath to catch
And your stormy eyes to fly open,
You restless, high-strung boy.
You're an eagle who is afraid of heights.
With the most beautiful wings and
The most piercing eyes you stare at the sky,
Waiting for the perfect moment.
But you don't know that life cannot be planned.
You cannot measure love, put a limit on hope or
But you. Stubborn, stubborn you,
Will attempt to find the ultimate equation
No matter how exhausted you become.
No matter how many sleepless nights come as a result.
I look down the rising and falling of your chest,
The small crease between your brows,
And I know you're scribbling a hypothesis
In some bizarre, ****** up dream.
looking at old stuff with a new perspective
they hear, they feel.
the raw pain,
the magnitude of it
surging through the glass eyes of those
right in front of them.
yet still, they stand by
Sweetheart, look to the mountains.
Their unwavering power. Their
Still, magnificent beauty.
Please climb them with me.
Sweetheart, look to the ocean.
It's vast mystery. The
Cleansing, crashing waves.
Please swim in them with me.
Sweetheart, look to the stars.
Their ancient compass, their
Never- ending hope.
Please dance under them with me.
Please say yes
Just this once.
I wanted to speak of the infinite
To chase the stars and lose
myself in the waves.
I wanted to scream of the unheard.
To challenge the unmoveable and
Rise through winds laced with flame.
I wanted to keep moving.
But you always preferred standing still.
I just realized that
Hearts are like street lamps.
Some are warm and ready to
Guide, assure, and welcome,
While others instill fear, as
They flicker in and out with
An ugly fluorescence, just
Waiting to be replaced.
It used to take me a while to
Figure out who had which lamp.
and that, my friends, is what made high school my own personal hell.
i thought about you today.
quite a ****** experience, to be honest.
the iron box full of
sick confessionals that is your heart
made me squint at the wall in front of me.
my pen stopped writing and fell
down my frayed scrap of paper
like a raindrop on a car window, and
i felt like a child confronted by a nasty bug.
picturing your face.
im still staring at the wall wondering
if these thoughts deserve any
complex, wrinkled thesaurus found words.
i frown as i notice a crack in the paint.
His heart was like winter,
Cold but exciting.
My most favorite season,
With crisp piercing lighting.
Adventures and chills,
Through my messy black hair.
Sharp, lovely breeze,
Through the whispering air.
But as the show thickened,
The ice became tough,
And I shivered and realized,
My coat wasn't warm enough.
Haven't seen the dude in like four years and he's out of the country where is my mind.