It's 4:01 in the morning, and i'm counting the minutes.
Reminiscing the day you kissed me like I'm yours.
And I'm here,
Laying on my bed.
Wondering if i'm in your dreams.
Hoping you'll save me to this
Nostalgic feeling.
Hoping you'll love me someday,
And repeat that kiss one day.

when he touches my skin
i feel his heartbeat
and it runs through my body
confusing my own pulse.

when his gaze meets mine
i see the sky in his eyes
and it scares me sometimes
how similar they are.

but when he gets sad
i see his heart turn black
and he scares me a little and i realise
that i was in too deep.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

there are things inside
that i'm trying to ****,
but my bare hands
aren't enough to push
down the things I'm trying to forget
into the river of the past,
that leads into the ocean

so I find myself at the shore
with these memories as
they wash over me,
in high tides
and i want only you
to hold my hand,
and caress me from
this panic
and make me believe that
somehow everything
will be
okay.

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.