i've seen you cry
felt your pain
i've dried your eyes

i've seen your worst
felt your anger
i've helped your hurt

i've seen your best
felt your smile
i've forgotten the rest

i've seen your heart
felt your pulse
i've touched every part

i've seen your love
felt your love
i've fallen in love

tell me what it is you want
and trust me, i'll listen
if you jump, I jump
i'll make truth out of all your wishes

i can be anything
the shelves that hold your favorite books
the blanket that wraps around your skin
the mirror that tells you how you look

just tell me, and i'll be

i can be the warmth that you need,
a safe place to come home to
i can be the winter wind,
lifting you off your feet

i can be the sun that touches your body,
take me all in
i can be the light that guides you,
follow me

i can be here
and i can be yours
and if you let me,
together we could rule the world

we are not poetry
our tears don't have words
fit to describe them
to their exact measure of pain
our eyes are not the oceans
you compare them to
because you've run out of hues
our smiles aren't phrases
you heard in your past
nor is our laughter
equivalent to your favourite song
don't hide us between lines
and this fine black ink
let us grow and live
please let us be
for we are people,
and not poetry.

The part I hate the most about this feeling
is that it doesn't look pretty in paint
nor does it sound lovely in lyrics
it doesn't rectify the emptiness
when I pour myself into other people's cup
I fill them up to forget what I am full of
things I do not love
colors that do not transfer well onto paper
words that don't make sense
nothing about this comes together
in ways that can expand and commence
this feeling is not a pattern
this suffering is not art
you can't trace a deadly storm that you did not acknowledge
from the start

the hand on the clock
moves with my heart
meticulous and non-stop
running in circles
but the workings of my mind
cannot be measured
by a single moment in time
neither the end nor the start
but i've made my mind up
i've found my role
the hand on the clock
moves with my heart
but not with my soul

when you love someone, you let their little imperfections become irrelevant but you learn to love every single one of them because of their heart - and to love the whole is to love each part