When I am lonely,
Or you're happy,
I get drowsy.
And everytime I close my eyes.
I can hear myself cry.
I can hear you baking your pies.
So close to my ear.
Feels like you're really here.
Warm and comfortably numb with fear.
I wish you stayed.
I wish I went.
I wish we were together.
I don't even know.
I wish for those days.
Where the tips of my fingers are cold,
And my insides are warm.
I desire those nights.
Where the headaches slowly arrive.
And the comforting tears flow.
I want those rare winter times.
Where there are pink skies within me.
And stormy nights.
Rain in California.
Love on my lips.
Peace contained in your eyes.
I was comfortable today.
A pretty flower for a pretty face. Oh how I wonder where you go during my days. To the museums you adore. To gardens and to the sea shores. Wherever you go. I'll find a pretty flower for your pretty face. A garden for every summer I remember you. And silently smile.
I once said that people have atmosphere's within them. Worlds in their eyes. And a massive collection of fireworks on their tongues. And I once wanted to have her atmosphere to make it rain within me. I wanted her comfortable nights to coincide with my anxious days. And I wanted to feel the slow explosions on my tongue. I wanted her. Not for how cute she is. Not for how lovely she is every day to everyone around her. For the smiles I earn. For that tiny grin that assures me for a few nanoseconds that I do have a reason for being here.
I can make a bouquet for things I miss.
Do all things with kindness.
Create smiles upon smiles.
Laugh with the most sincerity.
Find yourself in the joy of those you treasure.
Visit those quiet places in your mind.
The silent locations.
The rainy suburbs.
The summer loving beaches.
The heart wrenching hills.
Explode in the most loveliest of ways.
Be angry when you need it.
Cry when you should.
Love when you deserve to be loved.
Make enough mistakes to be stuck in someone's head.
Wait to be forgiven.
Expect laughter at your expense.
Understand that shame is a worthy companion.
And that pride is a terrible friend.
And most of all, enjoy every single thing that you can. For one day, you'll be gone. With or without an afterlife, enjoy this one. And be remembered.
Make sure you're always remembered for both the terrible things.
And the amazing things.
I honestly hate this. It's all cliché. But I need to hear these words. More often than not.
Let's take it slow
You don't know.
I don't know.
Whether we just wanna ****.
Or just want comfort from things that ****.
But whatever it is, let's just take it *slowwww
A little diddy I made up
She was unique in the way she spoke. Straight forward and yet in amusing riddles. She was cute in the strangest of ways, and her smile was one that didn't bring me in, but kept me at a safe distance. She was unique in the way she said her hi's and goodbye's. She would say my full name, give me a compliment, and then leave. And for some reason, that was all I could ever need from her. It's hard to admire her like I've admired others, for I think if I stare too long, I'll muddle the image of this amazing girl.
She was some kind of wonderful. She was some kind of breathtakingingly amazing. In the little known aspects of her, I loved every sentence in every chapter. Enough to reminisce when I'm lonely. Enough to base my hope off when I'm sad. She made me feel like some kind of wonderful. Some kind of wonderfully beautiful.
And yet, she is in her own sunny world. A trespasser in my rainy realm. I always wanted to hold out my hand in her time of spring, and bring her into my cold comfortable winter. But I am too weak both by society's standards and mine. I never know if I loved her. But the day she took me home, I swear she seemed so dreamy like.
Sometimes I question if she was really there.
This is an old love poem. One to a girl that I never really fell for. But I still feel a little pang in my heart whenever I see her.
Oh gardener of the soul. Do you smell of two lovers alone? The roses you planted are now intertwined, kissing only when the breeze blows.
Oh gardener of the mind. Do you smell of explosive happiness? The lilies you sowed into the ground are now blooming violently. Like explosions in July, they gather temporary admirers, if only for a day. If only for a moment. Making the loneliest of people smile at the defiant nature of these flowers in winter.
Oh gardener of the heart. Do you smell of copacetic feelings and romantic sunsets? The flowers you planted for your bouquet are now too beautiful to cut. Yet your lover's eyes twinkle at the snapdragons and peonies you so lovingly implanted into the ground.
Gardener of the universe. You planted gentle flowers and weeds atop my roof, they grew from the rain that you watered. They give me hope. They give me a sense of that my aching bones and ailing organs will serve as fertilizer for the flowers you grow. And I am okay with that.
I wrote this a long time ago. When I felt like myself.