I think about your skin pressed against mine
and how I'm sure it would feel like an ******.
You wreak of *** and
I bet those lips taste of blood.

Meaningless words
float like stale smoke
in the stagnant atmosphere
of the space between us.

Aching for a cigarette and meaningful human contact.

So, I just want you to know
that you're actually on my mind a lot lately.
I eagerly await to hear from you,
even when I'm sure I won't.
You really brighten my day
and I love hearing about everything
going on in your life.
You are my favorite thing.
You're the sunset.
You're my morning coffee.
You're my final dreaming thoughts.
You're thin mountain air.
The warmth of Spring.
My favorite poem.
My favorite work of art.
I want to drink you in,
breathe your air,
feel your beauty.
I'd die to trace the outline of your face,
knowing I could never get the lines right.
I am reminded of you every time
I wish it would rain- but it doesn't.
You are lovely.
I just want you to know,
each time I feel a breeze caress my cheek
and swirl around my figure,
I am reminded of your gentleness,
and the way it reflects your
loving nature.
And if you were a song,
I'd dance with you until the early morning,
wishing your melody would never end.
You are the soft warmth of old vinyl-
and there's not a thing on earth
that doesn't reflect your natural way of being.

I'd love to curl up with you tonight.
Feel you next to me.
Learn the pattern of your breaths.
I'd love to cuddle up in a blanket and watch
the sun dip lazily behind the mountains,
the golden rays reflecting your soul,
the breeze playing with your hair.
I want you to tell me the meaning behind each tattoo
and talk late into the night about life's important things.
I want to fall back, and look at the stars,
and as I look over at you, wonder how you're not up there with them.
Fingers interlocked,
souls dancing under receding moonlight.
Your presence, reflecting the world.

How can somebody be as beautiful as the poems they write?
I have no idea, but **** you do it well.

I enjoyed our conversation last night, and
it's funny how somebody can come out of nowhere and
make a small difference in your life.
And so, I fell asleep with you by my side,
in a roundabout way.
You came to me in my dreams
like a ghost,
soft,
slow,
almost nonexistent.
I didn't know that it was you, until you spoke
in perfect prose and poetry.
You radiate life.
I'm inspired by your words,
and maybe that's why I thought about you today,
even though I maybe shouldn't.
And with each long drag of my cigarette,
I took in deep breaths of you,
and let you linger in my lungs,
flow through my blood,
and rest gently on my mind.
You're attractive
in a profound away.
I know that maybe I shouldn't say too much,
or really let you know that I'm thinking of you,
but, I'm *****, and there's something about a girl
that writes poetry,
that makes me incredibly weak.

Oh, hello lovely thing.
I want you to know that every time I close my eyes
I think of you
and I imagine your words are whispered to me
through each gentle breeze.
I can picture your gorgeous face,
and deep, sad eyes,
and I can see you're the most beautiful poem
ever written.
And every time I read your lines,
I linger on every word,
for I am truly overwhelmed by you.
There's never been a poem like you
and I suppose that's why
I cannot get you
off my mind.

I shouldn't be telling you
that I think you're beautiful,
or that I think of you more often than I would like to admit.
And I shouldn't tell you that I must have read every single line 500 times.
I shouldn't say that I think you're perfect,
or that you make my heart flutter.
I shouldn't let you know that I look forward to seeing your name in my inbox.
I shouldn't say that I have never seen anybody radiate grace quite the way you do.
I shouldn't tell you that I fell asleep last night,
thinking of you.

It's amazing how much you can miss a stranger.
It's amazing how much you wish you could hear their words.
Longing?

Maybe that isn't the right word.

You can admire a face
A perfect slender nose
Soft eyes that have seen more than you could ever imagine
Windows showing deep sadness-
A sweetness
She reflects your soul.

You might not know where they come from
Or where they are now
Or even their full name
But you know you enjoy their presence in your life, no matter how brief
Their words
Their stories
Their poems

It makes you feel full.
You can tell that she's wonderful,
elegant,
real,
infinitely deep.

And you're left,

longing...

between midnight and 3am.


But then again, maybe that's not the right word.

I love the way you stare at me blankly from behind your coffee.
You take slow, painstaking sips...
It suggests exciting ***.
I love the way you sensuously lick your lips,
every time you put the cup down.
I love the way you're not flirting with me.  
I love that you tell me your **** looks amazing in those leggings.

I know.  

I love the way you say my name-
distantly,
boringly,
disinterestedly.
Your mind a million miles away, on another man-
You tell me how nice his **** is.
I smirk and tell you I'm glad that we're friends.


You're a special kind of torture.

I feel helpless.
Like a very small fish
in a very small bowl.
But sometimes,
you make me feel
like an even smaller fish
in an infinitely vast ocean.

I am torn apart by the currents of your anger-
Tossed and shaken,
Until I am left confused and
Alone
in the depth of your problems,
which you choose not to share with me;
and watch in enjoyment
as I struggle to figure things out for myself.
But, at the end of the day, I know I will be captured yet again,
only to be placed back into my suffocating home-
where you tap on the glass,
until I turn
belly-up.

I'm tired of this.
I deserve better.
I'm always hearing about the things I didn't do,
when I so clearly did.
I'm tired of being the best I can be,
while my best isn't good enough.
You used to compliment me,
tell me sweet nothings,
but now it's hard to get a word out of you
that's anything more than complaints or commands.
I don't know how much longer I can handle feeling
so disrespected, because I've done some thinking,
and I deserve love.
Do I not help you with everything you need?
Do I not tuck you in each night?
Do I not run errands for you?
Do I not play doctor when you're sick?
Do I not kiss you the way you like?
Do I not sacrifice all of myself for you?
Do I not give you everything you need?
Because at this point, I'm tired of being accused for everything-
that I didn't do.
If my best just isn't good enough than what more can be done?
I'm giving you all I've got, and if that's not good enough, then you don't deserve all of me.

I'm so very sorry for all of the heartache you endure-
someday somebody will come along that can make you very happy.
With Spring quickly approaching, I hope the sunshine warms you up,
and I hope you receive all the messages the breeze tells you.
Remember, everyone sees the same moon and breathes the same air.

Touching someone is only a matter of knowing they exist.

I so desperately
miss the feeling
of words
spilling onto
empty pages.



Maybe it's time I came back.

Although it seems ancient now,
and although it may mean nothing to you,
with the changing season,
and the cold settling in,
I am reminded heavily
of you
and the time that
we never spent together
and how my porch remains as empty
as it ever was,
even though it sure felt like
it was all reality.

Maybe if I wasn't me, you'd be infinitely more happy.

Everyday I have to swallow my heart
back down to where it belongs.
When it feels so broken,
and it seems like it's trying to
escape your body,
and it feels like it just wants out
to get away from the pain,
only for a moment-
I pour the biggest glass of water I can,
hands shaking,
and force my bleeding heart back down inside myself,
as the cold rushes past my lips and
down my throat,
I finish it hastily,
gasping for air,
wishing that I would just drown instead.

I miss you.
I miss you a lot.
Dear friend,
There’s so much I still don’t know- that I won’t know.

Remember? We laughed and sang and cried and learned and loved.
I do.
Remember when we talked?
We talked for hours about everything. About nothing.
I do.
Remember late nights with a high moon and loud music?
Dancing and sharing dreams.
I do.

I will always remember you. How cool we thought we were. How close we became.

Where are you now?
Why did you fade away without even saying goodbye?

Remember when you said we’d be friends forever?
I do.

I miss you.

I have an obsession with depression
When the sun makes summer days everlasting
and I'm left grasping at melancholy ideas
my mind slips back into it's natural state
self-hate will forever govern my fate
and I'm tired of living like it's all okay
and that I'm supposed to live a certain way
I'm over the monotony and hopeless love
that can't be found because constantly flirting and
never getting anywhere is doing nothing but hurting my
already shattered heart while the dreams that I once had
that people convinced me were bad have all been beaten down to more realistic goals based off of what I've always been told.
When I stop doing what is expected of me
that's when I can finally see
my true self gasping for air in the pit of my stomach where
I pushed it so long ago;

clawing to get out.

I don't remember when the **** my poetry became about pleasing people or getting votes or views.
I don't remember when my writings were only created to be approved by a friend.
I don't know when things became about success or money.
I don't know why it turned into pleasing a lover.
But as soon as it did become about those things, I lost my spark, and suddenly writing was a chore.
I'm done with burning in my small spotlight with nothing flowing on paper,
I just want to be free.
It's time I get back to writing the way I used to.
For my emotion. For my passions. For myself.

I got out of the shower
and wrote you a love letter on the mirror,
"Meet me outside. I'll grab our favorite blanket, and that mint tea you love so much."
I just hope that it doesn't fade before you get the chance to read it.

I want to tip that book you've been reading away from your face,
                       remove your glasses,
                                      and give you a story all your own.

Lose yourself in the poetry of our lips
and the fluttered prose of our breaths.

I still think about
   the night you stole all those kisses
                  from me.
                Well, darling, I'm here to tell you
                                     that I've come to steal them back.

Don't ever let somebody
determine your self-esteem -
ever.
You are more precious than all the stardust in the universe.
So what if he doesn't like you?
Never destroy yourself because of a stupid boy.
So what if she doesn't understand how you felt?
Don't change who you are because of a selfish girl.

The one that you need to look towards for strength is yourself.

I never thought I could fall in love with somebody
the way I have with her.
I thought I knew what love was, but I never really did.
If you would have asked me what I thought love was three months ago, I would have said that it was hurting all the time.
That it was something that you burned up in-
Something that you find in the romance of hazy coffee houses and broken cigarettes.
Something that was unobtainable.
Now, she's made me realize, love is acceptance.
Love is making somebody love who they are.
Love is staying up until 5 o' clock in the morning just to talk.
Love is waiting.
Love is awkward.
Love is worrying about somebody, even when you know they'll be alright.
Love is a shared song that you both can cry to.
Love is a comfortable silence.
Love is wanting to be everything for somebody.
Love is a kiss that can't be felt.
Love is shirts on the floor and butterflies in our stomachs.
Love is her.

You know it's true
when I say that I never stopped
having feelings for you.
I've been waiting so long to give you these
words, but yet, I've been waiting even longer for yours.

Maybe I'm the selfish one.

Want doesn't have to be in the past tense.
Because one thing is for certain,
I want you just the same.

Remember the time I kissed you when I shouldn't have?
Remember the time we danced?
Remember the stars?
Remember how dangerous and passionate it all seemed?

I'll never forget...
Because as you went with Autumn,
all the colors went with you,
leaving nothing but the white powder of emptiness.  

I ache for your skin
and desire your lips...

Maybe, I'm just a hopeless romantic,
and maybe this changes nothing,
but you too, are my
weakness.

I was in love with her and she knew it.

The words do not flow like they used to.
They hardly come to mind at all.
Maybe it's because I feel almost absolutely nothing
and am only comforted by the numbing sensation
of a love that is far too unreal.
All this time, I've been searching for something
and now, I feel like maybe
I've been searching for the wrong thing.
Maybe I've only been looking in the wrong places.
Maybe I'm too stubborn to accept the reality of a situation.
I'm afraid of a love that I can never feel.
I'm afraid that the distance between our bodies will always be kept
far greater than I can even fathom-
even if we were in the same room; holding hands.
I'm afraid the connections that our souls share
will quickly become tattered and cracked.
Maybe I was never destined for love.
Maybe I'm supposed to be alone forever.
Maybe I'm supposed to have my heart broken...
But, maybe, I'm supposed to break my own heart.
I think maybe I'm just meant to stay lonely.

As far as your hopes, I appreciate them dearly,
for indeed, the temperature has been rising.
But, the fact of the matter is that it's the middle of winter.
I can't remember a time in which it's been
so cold.
And simply put, I'm only growing colder.
The spot where we laid in the lawn
has been dusted with snow
and nobody has visited me since you left.
Other's have tried, but, seldom stick around.
My porch grows more vast every day.
The slits between the beams become a reminder of my flaws.
And it is now that I fear
that the only thing that could ever warm me up again
is you.