There are those who would not agree
With the thought of you and I;
The thought of our lips touching,
Of you kissing my neck as I arch my head back in laughter.
Sharing a *** of tea in midday,
Pointing out our favorite lines in the song
And realizing altogether
That we’ve only known one another’s  touch
For a short time; yet it feels like eternity.

I do not know all the secrets you hold,
The worst thing you’ve slurred while drunk,
Or how many friends abandoned you.
And you don’t know the dusty corners of my mind quite yet.
But what I do know is that
Your skin is made of galaxies,
Your eyes of stars,
Your heart of nebulas
And I can no longer imagine the night sky without you.

And even if my baggage comes with peach tea
And yours holds the ashes of cigarettes,
We won’t know  the difference 20 years down the road.
Brew me up and I’ll inhale your nicotine,
Let me steep and I’ll exhale the smoke you've held in for so long.

I’ll be your anchor and you can be my wings,
And we won’t give up easily.
We have this life and the next to figure it out,
And when the earth falls, and we plunge through darkness with it,
Nothing but our stars will remain.

I warned you;

I’d ruin you.

I am nothing but a jagged shard of glass
Protruding from the Earth's surface.
Perhaps if you casted me out to sea
And waited for my remains
To wash up on shore years from now,
Worn from the saltwater and sand,
I will be polished and shaped
Into a smoothed gem,
Worthy enough to catch an eye,
To be held up to the sun,
Then dropped back to Earth
And buried beneath the waves.

The vertigo stricken acrobat
Balancing on her tightrope,
High above the sunken rooftops
For what seemed like days on end.
Shaking and weak,
It could be said that
A single drop of moonlight
Could push her over the edge.

She is a house,
More like a cottage.
Small, quiet, quaint,
We all know the kind.
She is kind,
Her doors are unlocked,
And everyone is welcome.
Many come and go,
And some she wishes would stay,
But she understands
That there are other houses
That they want to visit, too.

From the road she looks perfect,
Like the house you want to settle in,
Raise a family,
Grow old and pass away in.
But when you get close
Enough to smell her wildflowers
Sitting on the porch,
You can see her pastel paint,
Peeling and cracking from
The sun's rays.
You can hear the floor squeak
From years of slight mistreatment.
You see the tiny nicks and scratches
On the furniture,
And the once polished silver
Is beginning to cloud.

The fireplace isn't quite warm enough,
The walls aren't quite thick enough,
The roof leaks here and there
In the heavy rainstorms.
Maybe she isn't the house
You want to settle in,
Raise a family in,
Grow old and pass away in.

But for now she will do,
Because she offers some warmth.
And in the morning you will leave,
Possibly visit another house,
Or cottage,
Or mansion.
But her fire will still be lit,
Her furniture will still be there,
And her doors will still be unlocked.