I'm sorry for my poetry
I'm sorry it isn't about coffee stains
On lace tablecloths

I'm sorry I don't have little anecdotes
About our shy and awkward love
Or his fearless mouth

I'm sorry the lipstick is always faded
The metaphors are sloppy, stumbling drunks
And the skies are never blue enough
I'm sorry about my poetry
I'm sorry for my poetry

I'm so, so sorry
Please just let me cry it out
I swear I'll clean it up

The past is a funny thing.
At one point, it was the present.
It was the moment we weren't living in,
it was the minutes that fell off the clock like wilted flower petals
as reminders of precious time we'd never get back,
it was the sun streaking across the sky
like the shooting star falling towards the earth
that you never got to wish upon.
But we dwell on it as though it's something we can change.
As though we are capable of wrapping our hands
around those of the grand-father clock and turning them back,
as though we can glue the fallen petals back onto flowers,
as though we can reset the sun to the morning.
But the present, is a beautiful thing.
Because we are currently watching the clock ticking,
and the flowers blooming before wilting,
and the sun shining in the middle of the afternoon.
The present is the moment we are living in.
So stop dwelling on lost time,
And live in it.

Dear Boy, I have some bad news for you...even though I know you're the definition of what's bad for me, you are tearing down walls that have taken me years to build and you're not even trying
I've fallen in like and I have no sweet clue if the kisses and cuddling and constant texting really mean a thing or if I'm just something to do but nonetheless my walls are shattering without warning

Dear Boy, you are like my fairy tale come true I mean who goes to the beach at night time to lie on a blanket and watch shooting stars pass above us? Who takes me out to dinner knowing I think he's using a gift certificate to pay fully aware that it expired months ago but that's the only way he could get me to go? Who the hell actually continues a should-have-been-a-drunken-one-night-stand once you're sober? But boy, just like every fairy tale you have to have your villainous traits and I'm hesitantly waiting to discover them

Dear Boy, I promise you, I tried...I really did, I told myself a million times not to think good thoughts but we all know how girls minds work, right? I tried not to fall for your smile...the way you get protective when I bring up my past, the way you sway when you hug me, boy, I tried not to fall but I never knew nice guys existed until you came along and you know that I'm a curious person

Dear Boy, why me? You know your baby blues are hard to say no to...that your touch can persuade me so easily, boy you know I can only go so long without getting my hopes up and truth be told I'm scared of the fact that I'm beginning to define myself by how my outline fits against yours...and how when something's wrong the cure is for me to be wrapped in your arms

Dear Boy, you scare me, I've never fallen this quickly or casually before but it's like it snuck up behind me and I find myself missing you, wanting you, craving you like the cigarettes hidden in my back pocket and I'm left at checkmate, I have no more moves against your adorable attacks but I'm scared...I've been through these 'things' before...you wonder why I don't let you buy me things, it's because they will just be the memories I have to throw out when you abandon me like all the others have

Dear Boy, I have sorta-kinda-accidentally-on-purpose fallen in like with you and I never knew nice guys existed until you came along and boy, you've proved me wrong