places to fall in love:

a café, while sipping on their charm

at a museum, where they're still the masterpiece

an arcade, as you let them win your heart

on a rollercoaster, where there's nothing like that rush

in a theater, while holding their hand tight

on a paddle boat, where teamwork is key

a garden, add water and watch love take root

a bookstore, as your fingertips brush their spine

on the bay, with ocean mist kisses

in their arms, the safest place

The pipes are knocking in the walls; groaning and dying.
You roll to the other side of the bed.
I roll out of bed and put a *** on.
The lights outside are strewn in no particular order and just on the door;
as if to say 'we tried'.
We try until the pipes burst.
We try until the coffee runs out.

I let skynet tell me the news brief and sit here.
I could be studying a way out of here.
But I don't go in until after noon.
I make another cup of coffee.
Listen to Teagan and Sara.
Look at ways to **** time...

The pipes haven't burst yet, but they're still knocking in the walls.

Neither of us is God
but I finally found
someone who
answers my prayers

At the basic stage of learning a language comes pairs of most commonly used antonyms,
words meaning opposites of each other like the earth and the sky,
far away and close by,
love and hate,
metaphorically speaking even you and me.
Except, sky begins right where earth stops,
so if you really think about it only the soles of our feet are truly grounded,
while our heads have always been in the clouds.
Distance is subjective, so depending on how fast a ride is or the resolution of a lens,
sunsets and full moons are that much closer than a lover's touch.
Love and hate are not two sides of the same coin,
or the extreme ends of the same spectrum,
but rather the same side of the same coin,
exuded by the same people at the same people for the same reasons,
interdependent,
coexisting,
one defining the other.
Well, I suppose that leaves you and me.
As in it literally leaves you and me out,
metaphorically speaking,
figuratively speaking,
theoretically speaking,
you and I aren't antonyms after all because,
as it appears we do not define each other or anything in between.
Like the ocean and a bumblebee.
Here I am calm and blissful with sunlight bouncing off of every wave,
dramatic and roaring, heightened with emotions soaring,
bearing an infinity of life, continuously giving, nurturing and upholding,
but all you want is honey;
metaphorically speaking.

i've found
so many ways
to say
i love you.
recently,
i discovered
silence
can be the
loudest
of them all.

It all comes back to you.
A premature declaration of love,
hundreds of cigarettes,
several one night stands,
many bottles of *****,
sleepless nights,
pep talks,
and six months later,
I still miss you when you are gone.
The hopelessness that surrounds me when the comfort of your presence in our apartment building is absent is almost indescribable,
if it weren't a precise forecast of one millionth of despair I'd feel when you eventually leave for good.
That despair I'm certain is going to feel like a gun shot would to the spleen.
I know I'm not your type of girl,
considering our only common denominator is nicotine,
when we cannot even find a film or a song we both like,
let alone anything in between.
It is evident you are far from my ideal type of guy, except
I think you are the guy.
Mixed signals and star patterns apart,
when you helped unzip that play suite,
there was nothing confusing or unclear about the shock of electricity that followed your touch from my neck to the waist down my spine.
They all say we look great together,
and I always think only if how great I felt when I was with you could be painted, photographed or just captured in some mainstream form for them to see,
the definition of absolute greatness.
But I am not much more than the smartphone you leave in your room,
the same owner and little use.
I dislike physics and gaming, as much as you detest large crowds and dancing,
but I idealize the thought of being different together,
which I know you don't.
Metaphorical or not you wondered out loud what it would be like,
so let me tell you,
I will be the lights out and shy kind of girl,
I will be submissive, amateur and giddy,
it would be absolutely indescribable, except
I am certain it will resemble the first time one sees the Northern Lights only a million times more incredible,
when you must truly experience it to know the feeling.
The fact of the matter is I obviously never stopped needing you, and
apparently didn't succeed at not showing it either.
The bottom line is when you are not sleeping in your room two floors above my own,
I really miss you very much, and
it's a lot worse than missing you when you are casually sprawling across my bed.
I wonder if you maybe feel one millionth the same...

As I'm sobering up
from your intoxicating hazel gaze,
realizing the spark I've been seen
is merely the reflection of my own,
I find myself no longer lost in your eyes,
but simply... lost.