he said “i love you more than you know” and i believed him for a moment
inhaling his scent and clutching him as i was
but were those words that meant more to me than he knew 
said because i needed them or said because they were true?
and i, doubtful person as i am, began to doubt

my heart is a bottle that I stuff all my emotions into.
I  scribble down my secrets, roll them up, and stuff them inside.
I lost the bottle out at sea.

you stupid boy, you stupid lovely boy, 
i love you, but you either don’t see it or you ignore it
if you don’t see it, you’re dumb but i still love you 
if you ignore it, well, there goes my heart.
but its okay because if you’re happy I’m happy.
because i love you, 
you stupid lovely boy.

1.
Sometimes I forget just how much I love your face.
It is so open, but I still can’t tell what you’re thinking. 
Sometimes I forget just how much I love your voice.
It’s so clear, and I wish that I could hear it all day long. 
Sometimes I forget just how much I love your hands.
They’re soft, but not too soft, and I wish I could hold them.

2.
Sometimes he looks at me like I’m the world and I freeze and I don’t know what to do
Because there’s someone else he looks at like that and she’s more than I am 
But he is more to me that he his to her
He is a world to me and only an island to her
But regardless
Sometimes he looks at me like I’m the world and I melt inside

the rain began and she fell in love with it
it came in waves like the ocean
sounding loud on the tin roof above her head
it calmed her shaking nerves
the thought of its cool fingerprints on her skin 
diminished the pain in her head
the burning sensation was swiftly put out

Mother called me a devil child
Daddy called me a curse
They sent me away on a long black train
To an unfamiliar town full of strangers
They sent me away, and they sold me
To a man with a greasy smile
Who held my arm, too tight
And someone took my carpet bag
And I knew I’d never see it again, somehow
The sky was yellow, I remember
And my stomach churned grey
As he led me across the cobblestoned town
To a campsite, gaudy, ugly, old
The mustard-and-ketchup striped tents
Looming ahead like strange, distorted
Technicolor prison bars
The people milling about the site
Were sad and haunting, looming as if
They weren’t really there at all
Their faces cracked like dry paint
The air was itchy, like my cotton dress,
(But mother always said,
“Never scratch”
Because she didn’t like the sound it made
Nails against scales, not pleasing to the ear)
He drew back the tattered curtain-door
Of the smallest tent and said,
“Welcome home, dearie,”
And I could feel the bile in my stomach rise
As I looked into their faces
And they all said
- Or at least they all seemed to say -
“You’re with your own kind now, freak”
I gulped as the curtain closed behind me.

i’m waiting for my heart to break
because i know it will soon

soon i will lose it to an unsuspecting someone
who will unknowingly carry it in his jacket pocket
and i won't be able to do anything but watch from afar as it's poked and prodded and cracked and tossed in a washing machine

and what should i do?
what if it was you?
what if i told you,
"my heart... you have it."
what if i asked you to
"be careful, please..."
would you comply?

would you give me yours in return and let me hold your hand?
or would you try to give mine back, wrapped in mumbled apologies?
or would you toss it away, and leave it to slide into a street sewer with the muddy rain?

what if i didn't tell you?
what if i said,
"be careful, please..."
whispered it from afar, and let my heart get bumped and bruised by your oblivious hand, the one i want to hold?

i’m waiting for my heart to break
because i know it will soon,
but how?