Apr 2015
I dreamed (once) (twice) that there were flowers on your hands, a corsage mismatched with tattered jeans. I asked who had given it to you (wink wink nudge nudge who’s the lucky one) and you said that it was me (I’m the lucky one?). There were vines growing from your veins like I had infused something beautiful into your skin. Like I had something that beautiful to give.
You smiled at me as we walked down the road, past tornados of chalk dust and children playing hopscotch with flashlights to see by. I wanted to hook my fingers in your belt loop and hold you against me, press my face into your neck and giggle into your ear as we stumbled our way down the street (I’m in love with you).
Somewhere along the way we found a salt shaker full of diamonds that burned hot like stars and we shook them out and stomped them into the asphalt, grinding down a path that lifted behind our steps, ghosting off into the atmosphere. And then we ran out of salt. And then I found some in your eyelashes. And then you kissed me.
And it wasn’t real.
I’m told you had a crush on me. I’ve convinced myself it’s not true (and I miss what I never had). I wish I could pave a street full of starlight with you, but all I’ll get is a smile at my tired eyes (which is close enough and warm, warm, warm). I’d like to fly with you, to see the world you’ve stayed in and loved so, to make you blush again and smile and laugh (you're beautiful).
You think that I don’t love you. I don’t know if you love me. I wish that you would, I wish that it was me that you say you are so in love with, that you want to fly away with and live forever young.
(There are words written on my arm that I'll never say, never sing. Not unless you ask. I'm kind of a coward).
It’s 12 am and I should be asleep but all I can think about is chalk dusted streets and the echo of your smile (warm and mine (I wish I wish)) and the reminder of how you said that you didn't think you'd ever fall in love.
(Just my luck that the most beautiful girl in the world is in love with someone else. Just my luck that I can't be that someone. Just my luck that I'm a coward)
(Just my luck that I quite like being in love)
You smiled at me as we walked down the road, past tornados of chalk dust and children playing hopscotch with flashlights to see by. I wanted to hook my fingers in your belt loop and hold you against me, press my face into your neck and giggle into your ear as we stumbled our way down the street (I’m in love with you).
Somewhere along the way we found a salt shaker full of diamonds that burned hot like stars and we shook them out and stomped them into the asphalt, grinding down a path that lifted behind our steps, ghosting off into the atmosphere. And then we ran out of salt. And then I found some in your eyelashes. And then you kissed me.
And it wasn’t real.
I’m told you had a crush on me. I’ve convinced myself it’s not true (and I miss what I never had). I wish I could pave a street full of starlight with you, but all I’ll get is a smile at my tired eyes (which is close enough and warm, warm, warm). I’d like to fly with you, to see the world you’ve stayed in and loved so, to make you blush again and smile and laugh (you're beautiful).
You think that I don’t love you. I don’t know if you love me. I wish that you would, I wish that it was me that you say you are so in love with, that you want to fly away with and live forever young.
(There are words written on my arm that I'll never say, never sing. Not unless you ask. I'm kind of a coward).
It’s 12 am and I should be asleep but all I can think about is chalk dusted streets and the echo of your smile (warm and mine (I wish I wish)) and the reminder of how you said that you didn't think you'd ever fall in love.
(Just my luck that the most beautiful girl in the world is in love with someone else. Just my luck that I can't be that someone. Just my luck that I'm a coward)
(Just my luck that I quite like being in love)
THIS IS SO BAD WOW AND NOT EVEN A POEM BUT OH WELL I'LL JUST LEAVE THE RAMBLING HERE
