and for once, she actually felt something.
she found someone she was afraid to lose.
yes, the tin man does have a heart.
she always looked for words she could steal to describe how she felt, but now... now she can use her own words because she feels them.

she feels the pull and the always-present urge to be with him. she feels a thousand, overwhelming feelings all at once that brings her to tears.

     "this can't last forever"
         "the chanes are slim"
              "he could leave any second,just like a blink and he's gone."

these thoughts swim in a mind that is always flowing, but she holds onto the red that fills her body; the image of his goofy smile and bright green-blue eyes keep her mind at ease while he's away and keeps her busy.

everyday it grows stronger, even after all the walls she's built and the things she thought she knew. it even gets better after she couldnt imagine it could. and she breathes deep and heavy thinking about how everything about him is perfect, even his imperfections.

it's crazy.
she's crazy.

and this is why she's afraid to lose him.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

what scares me is that i cannot differentiate between true feelings
and the mere belief of some feelings

Because, really, who were we to think
That you and I could trick love??
Who were we to think us smarter
Than the gods who rule above??
To think that we could outrun fate
To think we would be missed.
To ignore the warnings of those much wiser
To reach for that first kiss.
To think that we were more than stars
To think of our wisdom like jewels.
Really, who were we, my darling??
You and I were fools.

i have great dreams,
dreams of being an artist,
a writer,
a psychologist,
a singer,
a chemist,
a business woman,
a high-end New Yorker,
a relaxed California beach-lover..

the list goes on
but most of all i want to be a success and have happiness in whatever i choose to do
maybe by experimenting with each one ill find my true calling
but until then the choices are in abundance and i am still dreaming

beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display