I guess I don't love perfect hair,
And I guess I don't love painted nails.

I love messy buns,
And chipped nail polish.
I love how her hips sway when she walks,
Or how she tries her hardest to make me fall in love with her body
When I'm too busy trying to put to words how her eyes have a summer breeze inside of them,
And how the sun is in her smile,
Or the music in her voice.

"She's like a Lana Del Rey Song:
Beautiful, deep, and once it gets stuck in your head - you can't get it out."

I also think I could never captivate her essence with merely words.
I've spent these past few days alone,
Trying to capture the universe in a jar.
I want her to see how I see her:
So much mystery, and beauty in such a small containment.

And since I've been alone,
I've gotten three hickeys from a boy I didn't know,
I got in motorcycle accident,
and I stole two-hundred fifty dollars from her parents wallet when I went downstairs after she fell asleep.


"If she's the deep end of the pool, I'm standing in 3 feet of chlorine. If she's drowning, I'm not doing anything to stop her."