he was the first to see me cry
sitting down on the school halls
he picked me up and held me tight
everything okay?
do you want to talk?

and after a long conversation
when he said all i needed to hear
but i couldn't express all i wanted to say
he hugged me and whispered
*darling, you don't need a therapist.
you need a friend

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

If I walked up to you and
asked if you were happy
and you said no
and I asked you
what would make you happy
again
would you reply
us?

but I guess
shooting stars were made
for better wishes
than the fixing
of my shattered
heart.

everybody needs somebody,
and I've only got myself for company.