Undeniable draw with a
taste for the taboo,
my world is sparkling
all over, all over.
And he is all over me,
warm weight and bad jokes
and I just can't stop laughing.
The world is my oyster
but sometimes I clam up,
so afraid of how strong
all my emotions are.
But I'm not scared long,
or I'm scared and I'm smiling,
because it feels so good to
look into his eyes.
I'll wade in the waters
in a big pink pool tube
laughing at the riptide as
I'm carried away, I'm carried away,
I'm always getting carried away.
Dip my toes in the gold for a moment,
leaving twenty little prints in
the wake of my day.

Love is unselfish. Love is unconditional. Love is wanting their happiness, even if it does not mean your happiness. Love is being awake and alive and wishing they were here to experience this with you. Love is being ******* furious, taking a deep breath before you twist the knife in, and instead stitching them up. Love is holding back their hair and rubbing their back while they throw up; drunken mistakes are nothing to be ashamed of, babe. Love is feeling blood and hormones rush through your body the moment you realize they're here, they are here. Love is birthday cake, Christmas lights, spotlights and dreamboats, breakfast for dinner, and making anywhere home as long their arms are around you. Love is moonlight ***, morning kisses before you've brushed your teeth, their hand sliding down your pants under the table. Love is craziness, insanity, being so fueled by emotion that nothing makes sense and you can't help but act. Love is singing it all at the tops of buildings, kissing them when nobody or everyone is watching, being not only unafraid but proud to claim them as yours. Love is wanting nobody else in the world except them because nobody else is worth it; nobody else could hold even one-tenth of their value to you. Love is meaning it, every word. Love is ridiculously long letters, hand-painted cards, drunk text messages, and forever-blurred vision. Love is a slip of the tongue while you're high, playing guitar on a back porch at three in the morning, and wanting someone with every fiber of your being even if you'll swear to the death that you don't. Love is choosing someone, knowing that although it's going to be difficult, and painful, and sometimes ******, you are willing to take on any challenge as long as they will be there when you wake up in the morning. Love is deep, deep, deep down, sometimes small but always glowing, ready to spark a fire again at any time, if only you'd poke at the embers and let it burn.

A strange mixture of lust and childlike adoration hits me like a ******* truck when I look at you. The way you make me throw my head back and laugh, the way you say my name. Just the way you ******* are, oh God, I can't stop smiling. Last year, you kissed my forehead and said you never wanted to see me cry. This year, you kissed me, hard and slow, and everything stopped spinning. I denied it for the longest time, but, I really think I love you. It's too bad that time and distance are going to break my heart.

We
were growing
so much and
nobody even noticed, not
even us, and it was
a beautiful pull from innocence into
true feeling, like a chasm or a
black hole of magic; one day you look
around and realize nothing is the same
and sometimes that hurts but do
not worry for things won't
stay that way for long.

the human body
has three hundred and fifty bones
when we are born
which fuse together
as we grow
to two hundred and six;
further simplifying
down to condensed calcium
and summated marrow,
growing our skeletons down
to simpler beings as we grow.
if only the human soul
was not the opposite;
******* into
spreading stardust
particles so quickly that
we cannot put a simplified
finger on exactly who we are.
black & gold.

i want to swim in your psyche
and drown in your soul.
knee-deep, toes like raisins,
head below the surface,
tumbling onto shore with every
crashing thought.
i'll scuba dive through your every flaw
and take souvenirs in memory
to remind myself i love each
drop of water you think scars you.
i can hear your ocean in your heartbeat
and when you tell stories no one knows.
and your sea slips through your eyes
sometimes; saltwater sadness.
i want to touch the very bottom floor,
ten-thousand leagues under your heart,
where your humanity rests and cries and loves.
let me sing and swim, let me in,
for i am so thirsty for that salty clear blue abyss
you grow into everyday.
i will willingly ride out each wave
until your tides subside and you are calm,
flat lagoon with moonlight right on top.
i want to plunge into your persona and
submerge myself in your mind,
breathing in the sweetest water
my lungs and ocean have ever known.

I am a flower
on the broken bridge
and you are the hand
that places me in your hair,
behind your ear,
and you let me whisper
all the awful reasons
I was broken off
from my stem and
from my garden,
and you let me cry
about why I am a bad, bad,
bad, bad, flower.
And that is when you tell me
that no fingers deserved
to pluck me down to nothing.
I have not lost my stem,
but found a new one.
You are my stem.
And I am your flower.
Some days, I will be
your stem, and you
will be my flower.
And we can learn
to grow ourselves
our own new stems.
Because it's not about
the baggage,
it's about who helps you
unpack.