i kiss you like you'll leave me,
every time like it's the last time.
you stay with me;
and always spell
"I love you"
with "goodbye".

09.02.14


I guess there’s this part of me that hates every aspect of what you are. You are the definition of what I want and look for. Sometimes, it’s painful to think that those many girls out there look at you and think of you the same way I do. They see you as someone who is nearly irreplaceable. Someone who gives them hope and love just by being alive. Yet, I found myself going absolutely crazy for you.

I want to be the reason of your cry because you’re laughing too hard. And I want your grumpy morning attitude. I want your sleepy morning voice, that gives me chills everytime. Sometimes, I’d like to imagine us curled up in bed, pretending to watch a movie when really we’re stealing glances at each other because it’s ridiculous that we found each other.  

I want your arms wrapped around my waist when you feel threatened by someone else. I want your eyes to look at me and they constantly give off the little sparkle they have.

I have painted this stupid image in my mind that you are my safe place, my home. Maybe it’s not stupid. Maybe it’s what’s keeping me sane and breathing right now. You do these little things everyday, and not realizing how much it affects me. Sometimes, I think I’m the only one feeling that way. But that’s silly.

Thousand of girls feel the same way, think the same way, wishing that some way, life will take a dramatic turn and maybe, just maybe, they’ll end up with a happily ever after. With you.

A piece of me thinks that I owe you my life because the slightest curve of smile that your lips made can keep me happy for days. And that’s what I don’t understand.

Love is “always wanting them to be happy and doing everything in your power to keep them happy” right? But this time, it’s twisted. I want you to be happy and you want me to be happy, but not in the same way. I want you to be happy and I want you to smile. I give you my everything, my heart.
But what did I get back? All I get back is a reassuring smile. And somehow I’ve convinced my broken heart to believe that you mean it with your whole heart. After everything is over: the girls, the fame, the fun, the youthful age, the music. Maybe then you’ll realized all I gave up for you.

And what makes this all completely over-the-top mad is that I wouldn’t trade this obsession I’ve got for everything. And when someone asked me, “Why?” I don’t think I could explain why; simply because they would never understand and they don’t even care. But you care, or at least that’s what I told myself.

I'm the type of guy

who pees sitting down
when I'm a guest of
somebody's house

because

i may be a
drunkard but
it's not hard
to care about decency

I don't want to ***
all over the seat,
it happens all the time
when I'm this far gone

so I shamelessly
get comfortable
and relief soon
enough sweeps

also:
I automatically leave
the seat down, you see

that makes me
some kind
of a
gentleman, right?

You thought I was that type:
That you could forget me,
And that I'd plead and weep
And throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare,

Or that I'd ask the sorcerers
For some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift:
My precious perfumed handkerchief.

**** you! I will not grant your cursed soul
Vicarious tears or a single glance.

And I swear to you by the garden of the angels,
I swear by the miracle-working icon,
And by the fire and smoke of our nights:
I will never come back to you.

(I wrote you
the same **** love letter over
and over
and over again
and I will keep
writing it)
(until one of us understands)

When you plunged
The light of Tuscany wavered
And swung through the pool
From top to bottom.

I loved your wet head and smashing crawl,
Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders
Surfacing and surfacing again
This year and every year since.

I sat dry-throated on the warm stones.
You were beyond me.
The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air
Thinned and disappointed.

Thank God for the slow loadening,
When I hold you now
We are close and deep
As the atmosphere on water.

My two hands are plumbed water.
You are my palpable, lithe
Otter of memory
In the pool of the moment,

Turning to swim on your back,
Each silent, thigh-shaking kick
Re-tilting the light,
Heaving the cool at your neck.

And suddenly you're out,
Back again, intent as ever,
Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt,
Printing the stones.