Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

is time ours or hours?

we have infinite potential lives
i can almost see how my life would play out with her
we would decide to hang out and watch mindless tv
shifting closer and closer to each other, side-eyeing when the other isn't watching; but we're both secretly watching each other instead of the show
i don't know how i'd bring it up that i'm into her, or even remotely have an idea on how i'd make a move
but in this infinite possibility world, i could figure it out
we'd keep it casual at first, just the occasional sleepover turned into a makeout session, then maybe further
we wouldn't tell our parents and the door would be closed
we'd probably tell our close friends, but not the whole school
we'd be lying in bed together one night at 3 am
when she'd ask me if i wanted to be something more, if i liked her that way
but how could i not?
she was special, passionate, always friendly always compassionate and this strange type of beauty that you just don't find down the street
i'd tell her of course, and maybe we'd tell more people and walk in public hand in hand
i can see it
i don't know if we would last
but i know i would cherish our time forever

If you're sleeping are you dreaming?
If you're dreaming are you dreaming of me?
I can't believe you actually picked me.

I know you care because every time I don’t answer your texts at night I wake up to texts in the morning saying that you love me and that you hope I am okay.

There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. But I am a rollercoaster ride baby.
And all you do is try to come along with me but I push you away.
Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you
Hate me in ways that make me want to wish I never put you through this
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

I’ve been doing good with my diabetes for several months now and that only one of many things you have helped me with.
I want to thank you for staying up with me on those long dark nights when all that was on my mind were blades and bullets.
And when I was starting internal conflicts with myself you were there to make peace.
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicide. You complimented me when I hated myself.
So I’ll walk so far away that I never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind
But when I turn around to take one last look at you
I see you mouth the words  “How can you do this to me?”

If you're sleeping, are you dreaming,
if you're dreaming are you dreaming of me.
I can't believe you actually picked me
You should just hate me.

We're still stars
Running track:
Leaning forward
Glancing back.
The timer's thumb
Is poised to press:
I'll run with you
'Til my last breath.
Across our path
Like a finish line,
Wait all the loves
We left behind.

I want someone
Who can read my eyes
And communicate with them
So that we can share jokes
From across the room
Or alert each other
During emergencies.

I want someone
Who can differentiate my smiles.
Real ones, fake ones
So that even when everyone else
Is fooled,
You won't be.

I need someone
Who can understand
That I'm a complicated,
Contradictory person.
That I may blow hot and cold
But in the end
I'll still love you.