I wish he could see how I'm starting to care
I wish he could tell that my heart leans towards him
With each new compliment he gives
I blush and shine just a little bit brighter

I wish he could be  happy
and I wish I could be the one to show him
I wish he'd get over her
She's over him

I wish I could look into his eyes
and see a reflection of my emotions
I wish he would walk in
and place a smile upon my lips

I wish that when I wake
from dreams of him,
I won't feel ashamed
Like I've just done something wrong

I wish he would lean down
and place a small kiss
on the point of my nose
so I can quickly lift up
and press my lips to his

I wish he wasn't the cause
of this sudden desire and lust
and the anguish that follows

I wish his feelings were real
rather than a distraction
I wish he didn't do this
because it is unfair to me

I wish he could see this,
my poems of him,
And he would know
how I feel

And I wish that wouldn't make him
scared no longer
He would know he could
trust me

I wish once he read them,
a smile would slowly make
it's way across his features

Then he would look to me
And his eyes would sparkle
for once he'd be happy
to have
me

**I wish

I am a rough draft. I am the crossing out of words that are not good enough in red ink, question marks after highlighted theories by your English teacher.

You are eventually going to ask about the dark lines on my right wrist, and I will eventually tell you the truth. I'll tell you the very first time was when I was only seven years old. I sat on my bed and stabbed my hand with a pencil. I have a few scars from that and I hope you will eventually have the courage to take a black pen and connect them to create a constellation and help me make sense of all of it.

When I cry because I get overwhelmed with how much I love you, take it as a compliment. Yes, I cry often. Yes, I love too much. When this happens, unzip your skin and make room for me. Fit me into your chest, because I will try my hardest to fit in between the bones of your back and the spaces in between your ribs. You will see every ounce of my love for you in the ringlets of my hair, every vein you can see in my wrists and every bone that pops out of my back.

After our first real fight, I will call back a half hour later, asking you to stay the night. When you get to my room, you will hear the kettle steeping and the bath running. I will run into your arms, and yes, I will cry again. I will plant kisses on every part of your body I can see, and whisper apologies for being such a mess in between every kiss.

I will make you many mix tapes and write you lots of letters. I will kiss the corners of your smile whenever I see it. I will write you many poems and seal them in envelopes and mail them to you, even if I was going to see you the next day. I will want to cook with your mother and discuss renovation plans with your father. When you roll your eyes when I call them by their first names, I will laugh.

But please know, I am only a rough draft. You will get tired of my love, my poems and fitting your fingers in between the spaces of mine. You will carve your name into my bones and my skull, rearranging every one of my veins to spell your name and seal a picture of every moment we fell in love all over again on the inside of my eyelids. For every time I blink, you will be there. You will be everywhere, and I am not able to leave my mark on any boy who claims he loves me, so know that you will be free. I was only the rough draft.

So small in his mother's hands. Blonde mess of hair on his head, sparkling blue eyes when he finally opened them. "I'll never let anyone hurt you," she told him while he slept that first night. Soon he grew to age of 13. His blonde hair still shinning and his blue eyes still sparkling. He fell in love with a girl. A girl who didn't deserve his love. A liar, a cheat. She played with his heart. She soon moved on to another, only seeking attention. He was lost, not clear of his intentions in life. Blurry-eyed with stars in the sky he walked to his mother's room and whispered, "I'll never let anyone hurt you." Then, he grabbed his blades and said goodbye to the world. Then, he was barried in the ground on a cold, cloudy day. And his mother came to say, "I'm sorry that they hurt you. I'm sorry it ended this way. But I can't change the past. So I came to say, rest in peace, my sweet.