it was the simplest of touch
your fingers brushing against mine
that made me realize,
i'm not complete.
it ignited a fire in me
that would only feel at home
in the warmth of your soul.
i'm not feeling whole,
come touch me again, please.

i am afraid of
losing loved ones
and being alone in the dark,
but mostly,
i am afraid of being
merely tolerated
when i want so badly to be loved.

i wish i could tell you how much i love you.
i wish i could describe all the ways you've helped me.
the nights i wanted to end it all,
those voices screaming all the bad things,
i thought of you.
how much i wanted to see you the next day
i wanted to exaggerate a story just to make you smile.
hug you, kiss you,
tell you i love you.
how could i describe how you've
saved my life innumerable times,
without even knowing?
i wish i wasn't the person i am.
and now you're sad
and i wish i could pull all of that sadness out of you
and put it into myself.
i wish you could see what i see in you.
i wish you knew what you meant to me.
please know that i love you
and i don't stand a chance without you.
please don't do this to yourself.
i know you're a mess
but the voices in my head are growing louder,
please don't leave me here alone.

you are the single most
beautiful thing to ever exist.
art wishes to look more like you.
poetry cannot even compare
to all of the beautiful words
coming out of your mouth.
seeds don't want to grow into plants
they want to grow into you.
the sun is dim in comparison to
how bright you shine.
your bones are lucky
to be able you hold you together.
every single cell inside of you is beautiful.
the sun rises every morning
just to see your face,
and i do the same.

the thought of you enters my mind as i slip into seep.
there are questions that simply must be asked
but i am not prepared for your answers.
like do you think of me?
do thoughts of our future keep you up at night too?
do you lose sleep worrying about me?
do you think of her when you're with me?
do you regret every mean thing you've ever said to me?
do you miss me when you hear our song?
do you love me at all?

you're a work of art.
not everyone will understand you
but the ones who do
will never forget you.

i hate being okay
because okay is not happy
but okay is not bad enough for anyone to care