Snowflakes in the air
Muddy snow on the ground
Your eyes the only warmth
Your heart the only furnace

But darling, I cant look into your eyes
Neither can I feel your heartbeat
Because this hardly happens
But cupid missed his target

She knelt down
And whispered her secrets into the earth
A prayer captured in her palms
And blown into the wind
To be heard in the heavens

Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.

Dripping down my thighs,
As i scream for freedom;

The clock stopped;
Smell of blood faded;
Replaced gradually with the scent of misogyny.

fickle minded hearts with angel halos above their heads / mouths dripping with the taste of cherry soda, vanilla and smoke / words are knives that slice through your head / and i warn you /

do not fall in love with a writer.

dead poet boys, art obsessed hoes with handstrokes syncing in the rhythym of a ****** battle / girls who became queens and all your we-could've-beens / these are the people who writes your name in white paper sheets / like infants with their toys.

do not fall in love with a writer.

they will paint you as a god / as a saviour / as a holy man / apricot kisses making you feel lighter / black ink impulse to remind you / that you are their lover /

for ****'s sake / do not fall in love with a writer.

they will make you the most beautiful human being that ever existed / until you can't stomach their vision anymore / you will get tired of them / they will get tired of worshipping you /

do not fall in love with a writer.

they let you see stars with your eyelids close / you're all over them because you are the cow and they are the moon / spilled milk, warm, slick and razor etches heart sick /  let me tell you /

do not fall in love with a writer.

just let them trace your outline for their plot because god you're hot / but you can't help yourself /

i said, do not fall in love with a writer.

you read their prose and you impose / break their trust / your love crumbles to dust / they made you feel alive / made you human / and you hate humanity / they made you love in forms of metric veins in your blood / god you should've believed me /

do not fall in love with a writer.

they will become obsess with the version they have dressed / mistakes erased like the cold november wind passed by a frozen lake /  meanwhile you fall in love with their quirks / they plan to be perfect–

do not fall in love with a writer!

and maybe they are perfect and you are their defect or vice versa / trembling fingers flick the beat of your aching heart / oh you feel torn to be apart /  let your molten gold and honey blood seep into the carpet / let them lick your feet / do not leave /

but your soul has departed /

i told you so / do not fall in love with a writer —

          do not fall in love with me.

I've learn to love moles after seeing yours,
One behind your ear and one on your lips

I've learn to love the football club I hate,
I hope they win, I secretly whisper

I've learn to talk simpler,
Because you hate not understanding what words mean

But it's time.
It's time to stop adjusting myself for you,
For you never learned the first word of me.