Oct 2014
There are 26 letters in the alphabet, A-Z, but how am I to string those letters together to make words into coherent sentences for you to have?
I know the rain tapping on my window right now is like poetry, because it's midnight and nothing good ever happens after midnight. I don't know you yet, or the way you walk, or the way you pronounce the word 'almonds'. I haven't even memorized the freckle pattern on your back yet so I'm not too sure this is going to work out. I'll try but we both know I'm afraid of heights.
I could show you why storms are named after people and the tiny ****** cracks on my porcelain body but you're broken too which is why I won't and we won't.
One day we'll lie on my bed and attempt to make constellations out of the stick on stars on my ceiling even though I put them there when i was 8 and had no method to my madness. Don't be surprised if you wake up at 5 am and I'm gone. I'm probably on the roof smoking a cigarette in the crippling heartbeat of the to-be sunrise. I'm selfish in that way.
I remember when I was 5 I left a bowl of mac and cheese on the table after i was done eating expecting someone to take it for me. 4 days went by until one morning it was gone. If thats not a metaphor for my life I don't know what is. Maybe thats why I'm a runner.
I guess this poem isn't really about you. It's more about me and what I think you should know before you decide I'm not a work of art you want to sting on your heart.
I know the rain tapping on my window right now is like poetry, because it's midnight and nothing good ever happens after midnight. I don't know you yet, or the way you walk, or the way you pronounce the word 'almonds'. I haven't even memorized the freckle pattern on your back yet so I'm not too sure this is going to work out. I'll try but we both know I'm afraid of heights.
I could show you why storms are named after people and the tiny ****** cracks on my porcelain body but you're broken too which is why I won't and we won't.
One day we'll lie on my bed and attempt to make constellations out of the stick on stars on my ceiling even though I put them there when i was 8 and had no method to my madness. Don't be surprised if you wake up at 5 am and I'm gone. I'm probably on the roof smoking a cigarette in the crippling heartbeat of the to-be sunrise. I'm selfish in that way.
I remember when I was 5 I left a bowl of mac and cheese on the table after i was done eating expecting someone to take it for me. 4 days went by until one morning it was gone. If thats not a metaphor for my life I don't know what is. Maybe thats why I'm a runner.
I guess this poem isn't really about you. It's more about me and what I think you should know before you decide I'm not a work of art you want to sting on your heart.
