there was the morning you found me, among weary eyes and tired souls. your enthusiasm was infectious, dangerous even, and through you i was almost convinced to love the hours of the morning. i remember because this was how we began, innocent, young and carefree.

there was the afternoon you arranged to meet with me, the grin on your face unmistakable as i stepped out of the hall into the windy corridor. your hair was golden brown in the sunlight, but your eyes outshone even the sun. i remember because that was the day you promised me the world, and i believed you.

there was the evening you coaxed me into running with you, passing grass and rocky paths till both our feet were sore. you sang and i laughed, and somehow through the exhaustion we managed to dance our way into each other's hearts. i remember because to me, it was everything.

there was the night you took me in your arms and told me it'd be okay. your warmth was enough to melt the ice around my heart and even though we were crying, you managed to smile through the tears. i remember because that was the moment i knew that as long as i was with you, i was home.

-

far off, you stand in the rain, head tilted up and a smile on your face; raindrops running races past your eyelids, your cheekbones, eventually falling off your chin. you look calm and at peace, but a glance that meets my eyes tell me otherwise, of feelings unspoken and words unsaid.

"do you miss him?"
a friend asks at my side, quiet and concerned.

i smile in response, hands trembling.
"i have never wanted so badly to be the rain."

(A.H.Z)

I can't describe -
How the yearning hides.

How it waits
Until the dead of night,
To wear upon the mind.

I have been trying to think of ways to say 'I love you' on paper
without writing outside the lines.
There is much more to the way the blinds paint sunlight on your body
than beat up notebooks and chewed up pencils.
I make a lot of mistakes,
the kind that rubber only smears but doesn't erase.
I didn't mean to crumple your delicate skin like paper.
I know that paper comes from trees,
yet all the poems that make me think of you do nothing
to help me breathe, and your touch only proves
that my breath is easier to take away than you'd like to believe.
Forgive me for being comprised almost entirely of errors and mistakes and strikethroughs with red pens,
While you are so clean and refined.
I think of you in cursive.
Take my trembling wrists in your strong fingers
and guide me with a steady and patient hand.
Teach me to love you in bold print and I will underline it three times,
and again,
and again,
and again.
In my head, you are a million brainstorms thrown into waste buckets,
and if for some strange reason Helvetica is the only way to make you almost understand my thoughts,
then I am typing furiously and waiting for you to see them all.
All I ever wanted was to fill the doubles spaces between your fingers with my own,
even though sometimes you wish you could
backspace the words you didn't mean to say to me
while I pretend I don't remember them.
I have been trying to think of ways to say 'I love you' on paper
without writing outside the lines.
Then I ripped up the paper, scribbled it on a napkin,
and wiped the blood off my face with it instead.

Now darling, please,
Won't you bury your armor,
and let your shield down.
Your walls are to high,
for me to climb.
Like a wave, crush it,
what poisons your mind.

Now darling, please,
Let go of your worries,
they can only bring you harm.
Your shadows are too dark,
for me to see.
Your mask, hide it,
and show me those scars.

Now darling, please,
Let me take you home,
to the place only you and I know.
Your heart is too heavy,
for me to know.
My hand, take it,
and I'll lead you through.