They told me to take things back to the 90's
Take things back to the heart
Told me I should have done this from the start.
But the views from my six are contoured.
Covered in foundations of fuckboys, fuckgirls and blessers.
So tell me how do I express my heart when this generation believes the only functioning ***** should be brain,
Because heart will **** you
And the others are going to die from harmful ingestions.

They told me to take it back to the 90's.
Take things back to the heart.
So here I go.

The basis of my poetry has always been pain.
My heart and soul always confining in a dark pit of abyss.
My body constricted in a corner
Huddled up, popping everything it could.

Now the basis of this story isn't about you saving me,
But how you gave me your hand, shoulder, smile and wisdom to the path of saving.
Of how you opened your chest, tore out your ribcage and gave me your broken heart as you took mine.
Of how you taught me pain is inevitable but suffering is optional
Of how you showed me true love.
And how grateful I am.

In twenty four hours the heart beats 115200 times.
At least fifty percent of the time my heart skips a beat.
This means from 57600 beats and above are skipped.

A week consists of seven days
In hours that's approximately 168.
As like the first at least fifty percent is lost in thought of you
Which means 84hrs and above I think about you.

An average of all 12 months is approximately 140 days.
Okay skip the math, let's get straight to the conclusion.
Math is a fine art of illusion.
Filled with various abstract to distract you.
But the rule is you will always find your x.
The x that completes your equation.

So what I am saying is that you complete my equation of life
You're my X.

Literature teaches us to express our feelings in terms of literal devices.
From anecdotes, personification to lititoes.
It tells us to sing with our hearts,
Speak with our souls and allow our voices to do it all.

Like Christina Rossetti,
"My heart is like a singing bird"
"For my love has come to me"

Look truth is you give me butterflies.
You make my heart swell up in happiness.
You make me feel alive.
You make me stutter out of nervousness.
You make me want to impress you.
To always put a smile on that beautiful face.
You make me want to hear your laugh every single second.
You make me happy
Which makes me want to make you happy.
Because pain is a feeling we all get to experience
But happiness is rare and I want you to feel it.

What I am trying to say is
I'm taking it back to the 90's
To the early 2000's
To tell you, you're one in a million
That I'm stuck on you
And that I am madly in love with you.

The death of a poet is the death of words left unsaid.
Words that could be beautifully carved into an orchestra of pain, sadness,happieness and a whirlpool of emotions.
The death of a poet is tragic.

As words that people hope to find end up not reaching them because  words could not unfold themselves, they could not evolve from just mere emotions and ideas.
Instead they stay boxed up in the mind of the dead.

The death of a poet is tragic.

"I know we are not going to last", she takes a drag of the cigarette, blowing out fumes of smoke.
She bites her lower lip and stares into his dark green eyes and sighs.
She takes another drag and closes her eyes.
She wonders how he feels, does he really care the way she does.
Does his heart ache for her the way it does for her.
She sighs again and opens her eyes.  She locks her eyes with the Orange yellow setting of the Sun.
She laughs to herself. 'Such a warm romantic feel yet the atmosphere is dull and cold', she thinks.
She takes another long inhale of her stick, burning her lungs as her mind turns light headed. She smiles, yearning for this feeling everyday.
The boy clears his throat and she stares back at him.
His eyes filled with sorrow and pain, he smiles and sniffles.
"I don't want us to get deep into this conversation", he exhales.
"I don't want the thought of me losing you to cloud my train of thought, Lets not get to that please",
He turns his head away.

Right now all I want to do is hold on to you tight. Hold you by your waist as I hug you from behind. I want to be near you, with you right now. Listen to your heavy yet steady breathing. Kiss your cheek and whisper nothing but honest words.
I want to feel your heart,your soul, feel your deepest and darkest fears, secrets and take them all in. Let them find shelter in my heart.
I want to be able to know all your flaws, to embrace them and love them as much as I love the flawless side of you.
I want to feel you.
To taste you, and I don't mean this in a ****** manner. No none of that, I want to taste your past, swim in the deepest and darkest ends of your mind. Swim in the lightest and best memories in your heart.
I want to take you in, memorize and fall completely and irrevocably more with the girl you are.

I want to watch myself grow with you. Wait I want to experience all aspects of growing with you. The pain, the suffering, the laughs, the happiness, everything. As long as its with you.

My hands are itching. They itch to write something to express this heart of mine.
My heart is crying to protect you.
To put a smile on your face.
To wipe your tears away and hold on to you tight.

My soul craves your soul, it craves to be in the same area, same place, same spot. It wants to feel what you're feeling. To take all your pain away but it knows.
There's so much it wants to do that it cannot.
But it will be here for you, I will scratch that I am here for you. Good or bad. My heart, soul and mind will go to the end for you. I love you.
I love you I love you I love you.
And I'll do anything for you, from the simplest to the most complex.
I am yours and I am here for mines