I'm drunk and all I can think about is you.
God, you're perfect.
I love your hair and your eyes and your skin.
I love the way you make me feel.
I want to hold you so close and never let you go.
You're so ****.
So wonderful.
I love your soul and your heart.
I think about you all the ******* time.
I want you naked.
I want you in my bed and I want to ******* hard.
I want you to tell me you love me.
I want you to treat me better than I'm being treated.
I want to feel something other than monotony for once.
I want you to hold my hand while we look at the stars.
Just tell me you love me. Tell me you want me. Lie to me.
For ****'s sake please lie to me.
You make me whole.
You make me happy.
I want you more than anything. You're my missing piece. My other half.
I need you and you don't know I exist.
I want to breathe you in. I want you held in my lungs. I want you to grow stale there. I want you to choke me.
I want to run away. Let's go on the road together. You and me. A little car. Sleeping with the moon. Skin against skin.
Show me yours and I'll show you mine.
Kiss me like it's wrong. Like you're 16 again and your parents could walk in at any minute. ****! I want you.  *******,  I want you.
You're my life and you don't even know I exist.

Maybe this doesn't matter at all
Especially because the way I may have treated you,
and maybe you'll never even see this,
but if you do,
I think that you should know some things.
I beat myself up a lot.
Fully responsible for the pain that you endured.
I think about you
outside
in the rain
in the gutter.
I notice you. Constantly.
In the back of my mind.
Something completely beautiful.
There's something gorgeous about the way the rain hides your tears.
About the way you look with wet hair.
I constantly want to go outside
and bring you in
and make you soup
and cocoa
and tea.
I want to help you get undressed
and dry you off,
changing into something,
soft and warm.
Safe.
I'll wrap you in a towel
and wrap you in my arms.
Tracing your figure gently,
like the road going home.
We'll construct a blanket fort.
And it'll be our secret castle.
Away from the world.
I see you shrinking.
I know that you are.
But maybe we could shrink down together
and make our fort an entire estate;
where I can make a memory with you
in each achre.
And when it gets cold,
we can scrimp and save,
and rent a dollhouse
for our summer home.
You wont have to worry
about other people seeing you sweat.
We'll close the blinds and draw the curtains
and stay naked-
vulnerable.
A place of our own creation.
You and me.
I think about the things we shared.
The late nights.
The secrets.
I always wonder how you are.
I long for you.
I crave your words like I crave
the nicotine, or the alchohol, or the abuse
that I need in order to
keep my thoughts off of you.
Sometimes I still think about it
because I'm crazy
and unfair-
jumping on a plane, I mean-
to expect you to be waiting for me on the other side.
I think about you all the time. Whether you believe me or not.
Or whatever you choose.
I dwell on you. I haven't stopped.
Like a near death experience.
The only thing that's ever really made me feel alive.
Completely whole.
******* I think about  you all the time.
Forbidden fruit. Something I shouldn't be reaching out for.
I want to dress your wounds.
Take care of you when you fall.
Douse you in antiseptic
wrap your bandages
and seal each cut with a kiss.
I haven't stopped thinking about you at all.
There is something about the way your heart makes my heart flutter.
And the way your soul speaks beautiful perfect poetry to mine.
I'd also be a liar if I said I didn't think about staring into your eyes, or the way you smell like lilacs and honey, or the peaches and cream of your skin.
My favorite dessert.
Something that I indulge in.
I want to taste you.
Every last drop.
Warm saltwater
lemon juice,
birthday cake
life giving nectar.
I've held my lips against a rose petal,
unconsciously,
wishing it were you.
Dying for the real thing.
I miss your voice. A sweet song.
Deep lulliby.
The most humbling thing I've ever heard.
Thunder
the roar of the ocean
harsh winds
butterfly wings
bubbling brooks
gentle rains.
Perfection.
I long for you with my whole being,
and whether it means anything to you or not,
I still thought that you should know.

My heart has loved so many.
Ever-changing and ever lasting.
Going farther than I could ever believe.
And yet, I still get hurt and no amount of bandages,
nor thread can hold all of my pieces together.
I'm hoping that you know I still think of you and
my heart aches because I shattered yours:
something so elegant and valuable- broken.
only now do I realize that I've been wrong
right now I find that you didn't need me at all
right now I find that I needed you. More than anything. I'm
yearning for you to share some words with me again, but I know it wont happen
and rightfully so. I said I wasn't good enough, and I believed it, now more than ever. And still, I
neglected that you were telling me otherwise. That you still wanted me around.
Distance was my problem. How I longed to turn our tangled words into reality.
I still can't step onto my porch without having my mind flood full of regret.
maybe I'll stop with all of this nonsense of 'what ifs' and 'have beens' but for now it seems
impossible. I know I
still haven't met a soul as beautiful as yours or
someone who could make me feel so full with only their words.
You were that only person.
Only you could have done that. And when I drifted out of fear that you too would drift and leave me
under the sea to drown in the misery of a broken heart, you promised you
wouldn't.
I'm complicated. I'm afraid of heartbreak. I break hearts to save mine. Before anybody else can.
The pain of loneliness is truly unbearable. I know and feel how I'm going to be this way forever. If
Hell is a place on earth, I must be living it, spending
all day going over the words you had so tenderly given. So wrongfully given. I remember when
love existed between us. How palpable and real it was. How I could
list all the ways you touched my heart. The only person who meant it. The only person who ever did.
My god how I miss you.
Your title, body, notes, and
soul.
Only I could be such an idiot.
Understand, I'm so complicated. I'm so sorry. I know you're not coming back, but I never got to say, "I
love you."

Who do you become when everyone is gone?

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.

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.

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.

There
is not a more
perfect gift
than those words
and that face

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.

Thinking about you and me
dusting off books from the 20th century.
Where are we now?
Where are we going?
I seem to remember a lot of people
but only when I really think about them:
every friend ,
every lover,
I've ever had.
And how awful of me
to not think about all of these people
that I have lost,
everyday.
Is it my fault
or am I just human?

I still write you love letters.
Love letters to your ghost.
Somebody that I might have known once
but view only as a stranger in a crowd of familiar faces.
I still write these love letters for nobody.
All about you.
The nothingness.
The emptiness.
An untitled painting.
An overused quote.
Unattributed.
Maybe I still write about the girl that I fell in love with in the sixth grade.
Or maybe I still write about the girl I cried about in high school.
Or maybe I'm writing about a girl that shares miles between me in the same bed.
Some small thing with fiery hair. No. Maybe brunette.
Tall. Definitely. Thighs and an ***.
Tired eyes. Green.
No. Brown.
I'm still writing about you.
A love letter for somebody that cares.
Somebody that realizes my words are all I have.
That doesn't brush them away.
Annoying. A crowd of gnats.
My words are for you.
For whomever will take them.

I fell in love
with the girl with
auburn hair.
She wore her wool coat
tied tight around her
waist as she held
a cigarette
slowly drawing on it,
making the embers
glow brilliantly in the dark.
I stared into her eyes
that cascaded into marvelous
pools of renowned beauty,
that had been structured perfectly,
by the gods themselves.
These eyes were untouched by
human hands.
She gave me a smile and
we talked for hours about
nothing
as I watched her
draw me in, along
with every puff of that
cigarette,
and together we burned,
down to the filter,
as we were flung to the ground,
and crushed effortlessly,
under her foot.

Souls move with words

Literally, please- ****** me.

I find myself thinking about you
almost all the time now
as your words
rattle around in my head
and the things
that I've taken for granted
are all far too beautiful now
for everything reminds me of you.

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.

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.

Tonight I experienced something new to me
tonight is the night that I almost died
tonight would have been my last night on this planet
the details I can't entail
for they are irrelevant
but let's just say I was in the wrong place
at the wrong time.
My last words to ever be said
would have been to my friend
saying, "I think you better hurry up."
Those would have been the last syllables to leave
these lips
of all the things that I have said or have wanted to say
those words would have been it
of all the letters that I've etched into paper
those words would have been the last thing
that I ever did
and oh god how I've taken this life for granted
and oh god how stupid I've been for ignoring the
smallest blessings I've got
and how ignorant of me to not take opportunities
and live this life to the fullest
I was shaking
as I stared at potential death
being sure not to move a muscle
not to breathe
not to blink
as I watched me and my friend
slowly become victims of wicked fate
realizing truly what I have been saying for years
that 'anything can happen.'
Just remember all of you
please remember 'anything can happen.'
Make sure the people you love know that you love them
make sure that you've always done what you love doing
make sure that you never leave any loose threads
and please please please for the love of god
make every word of yours count
make every word sing
make those ******* words
resonate and shake this earth
because you never know
what's words will
be your
last.

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.

The tears rolled down your china doll face
as the dust drifted through a sliver of light
that came flickering from that old neon sign across the street.
The pastel wallpaper, peeling away from the walls
showing nothing but the rotting wood of a dilapidated building.
The smell of mildew wafting from the bathroom leaving you nothing to
look forward to except the next drip from the leaky faucet.
How had your life come to this?
All of those teenage dreams.
All those fantasies of love and adventurous living.
Those notions of being an artist and revolutionary.
Nothing but the taste of bitter coffee and broken cigarettes lingers
at every meal.
A love gone sour.
Your beauty far exceeding conventional standards.
That perfect 10.
Wasted here in a dingy motel.
Longing for that one last kiss.
Waiting for him to make you feel young again.
As you yourself become part of this place,
realizing that you are decaying just the same.

She came in
out of the green
Because any other entrance
would be far too common and simple.
She came in at the perfect moment,
when I believed the world was dark,
to shine a little light for me
and keep a beacon on that distant horizon.
Keep it shining,
Guide me to you,
And someday we'll meet face to face,
And share that cup of tea,
where we can see the other's eyes
and know that it
simply has to be-
Fate.

I cradled myself in thoughts of you to keep me safe.
Now I lay cradled in the arms of another empty night.
Reveling in your silence.
Wrapped up in abandoned promises.
Lost in your words.
I love how close you are to the distance.
As if I could slip away
and fall between the cracks of the mattress and bed frame,
only to be turned over and over again in the ripples of the sheets-
pushed away by your tireless storm.
I cling to the reminence of what used to be a sturdy ship.
Now just a board of something that once was.
A distant memory.
A hope
that maybe these broken pieces can bring me to your shore.

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.