Regret,
Lingers like the taste of an old cigarette.
Regret,
The one thing you'll never let yourself forget.

Before you kiss someone for the first time,
Just wait.

Take a second to look at them.
They are so new and so unfamiliar.
Right now you don’t know how they taste,
How their hands will intertwine with yours,
How they’ll exhale after touching your bones.

You won’t see them like this ever again

Stare into their wanting -
the apprehension
budding inside their pupils -
they don’t know as well.
In their mind
you are uncharted territory as well.

Isn’t that special?

Keep it.
That’s how you’ll never lose them,
Or so I think.
Every so often after this moment,
look at them through these
soon to be ancient eyes.
Find this vision,
this exact dialect
of witness,
find these
pair of eyes

And don’t lose this wonder.
Don’t lose the spark.

For if you do,
The burns will leave you scared of the sun,
While the sunlight will still dance in their hair.

Even the universe is jealous of this moment, and will take this away from you in years to come,

Just know
If you are the forest fire
I will be the rainfall calming smoke scented winds.

Skin is delicate
But this story could be beautiful,
As we dive into the unknown.

- an excerpt from a book I’ll never have the courage to write

I can't decide
If I want my hand around your waist
Or around your neck.

Let me be the chill in your bones
Say the word and I
Become the shadow in your step
That moment of doubt
That second look back
That weight in your chest
I would steal your nightmare sheep
And be the only one that counts

I loved the way her cheeks turned a slight cherry red and how she became a closed shell when someone complimented her beauty
She was always the happy girl everyone knew but it seemed nobody but me heard the misery and slight sarcasm in her words
And I loved how she was a walking sign with closed written all over her, but she let me in anyway
And god how I loved the way she talked to me so differently than everyone else
Most of all, I loved how she was so afraid to show her sadness, except to me.

"I think I fell in love with her misery"

It started as a gnawing
in my stomach- not
butterflies of love
but the anticipation
of flirting with death.

There after, I'd race cars
down empty streets and
sing louder than the speakers
overpowering blue and red
sirens behind me.

Liquor rolled down my throat
like dice on the gambling table
the first time I bet my luck and
held your hand.

Midnight's like those were the
times when the barrels of loaded
guns seemed as tempting
as the sweet kiss of your lips.