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Blake Feb 2018
you tell me i can do so much better
than you
and i don't know how to say
no matter how easy it would be
for me to float on thousands of people
i would still choose
to drown in you
-i want you and only you
Blake Feb 2018
who are you?
please tell me for i'd love to know
i'll invite you in for tea and biscuits, you can tell me everything
please tell me who you are
i'd really love to know
for otherwise you're nothing more than just a stranger to me.
-i want to know who the person living in my skin is
Blake Jan 2018
You don’t realise how perfect you are
You need to look in a mirror
Look at the way your eyes smile with your lips
And the way your hair falls
And notice the outline of your body and everything that fills it in
Look at your nose and your eyes and your freckles
Count each one and realise how each speck is another butterfly in my stomach
Realise how beautiful butterflies are
And realise how you can create them without putting a thought into it
Notice how your lips dance when you speak
And how gorgeous your voice is
And how each time you smile my heart jumps so far up my throat I choke
Realise how phenomenal it is that you can do that to someone
Without even giving it a thought
You, my love, are perfect.
Blake Dec 2017
when we used to speak, i found comfort in saying whatever i so thought
i looked forward to spilling the contents of my brain into the open air,
allowing you to take in the sights and sounds of the sentences my lips were forming around

when we speak now, all i feel is a glass sheet sat on the tops of my teeth waiting to shatter under the pressure
of the conversation
now, i have to be careful with what i say, otherwise,
the shards would find their way down my throat causing nothing but more pain, and more blood

now, when we speak, the words i say feel different against my tongue
they taste metallic and damaging
like lies and betrayal
rather than sweet memories and fairytales
like sugar cubes
and honey
Blake Dec 2017
my head aches
when you cross my mind

my lips sting
when your name slithers it's way out from between them

my heart crumbles
when it beats for you
but then realises
you don't belong to it
and it doesn't belong to you

and that will never be so
Blake Nov 2017
Beautiful someone
Don't you find  
A mirror
That isn't coated
In false
Incorrect insecurities
Do you choose
To melt into the words of those who don't know
They're destroying you
Don't you listen to what those who do
Are saying
To tell you
To clean
The mirror
Why don't you
Blow the dust away
Of the surface?
You look in the mirror
And don't see beauty
Because you can't see clearly
When there's dirt in the way
Don't you wipe
It away
Why don't you
The mirror
Don't you listen
To those whose words
Aren't filled
With dust
Why don't you?

Why don't you?
I wrote this for my best friend.
Blake Nov 2017
If it were up to me you see, I would've been holding your hands from the beginning.
If it were up to me, pens would feel comfortable between your fingers, poetry would feel natural flowing from your lips
If it were up to me it would feel less of sandpaper and concrete
Instead, more of silk and lollipops to your tongue in the middle of summer
If it were up to me you wouldn't hate summer, you would adore it
If it were up to me you'd look forward to fresh strawberries and mangoes, the wind hot on your face like my breath would be to your chest
Curled up in your arms listening to your heart beat, waiting for you to stop wishing for it to stop
If it were up to me I would lay by your side each night, holding you close, patiently waiting for you to slip into slumber before letting myself do the same
If it were up to me I'd keep you from anything harmful
If it were up to me the sun in the morning would signify survival, not failure
If it were up to me the sunset would paint the sky with reds and oranges and purples every night to give you a reason to keep going
If it were up to me you'd look in the mirror and see the stars in your eyes rather than storms
If it were up to me your cheeks would be stained with loving pink kisses from the sun rather than tears made of salt and self loathing      
If it were up to me you would've held my hands and felt content from the start, rather than grasping onto them hoping to find something
i like this.
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