the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that all you want is to be with her every second
but the universe has other plans for you
so those sweet midnight texts have to be enough sometimes

the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that loving her is exhilarating but terrifying
your whole life, heart, soul belongs to her
and forever won’t be long enough

the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that her smile is your favorite thing in the world
she doesn’t see the beauty that you do
but her face is the only one you ever want to see

the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that she consumes you
there is no measure of time that will be enough with her
your heart aches whenever you are apart

the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that she is your first and last thought of every day
she is always there by your side when you imagine your future
and your wedding day can’t come soon enough.

she wears her jewelry proudly
purple, sometimes green,
maybe yellow
but it is always
beautiful.

she will tip back her head
and show you her
long neck and you
are overcome by the sight
of such
beauty
in one person.

sometimes she wears bracelets,
delicate
purple bands encircling
her dainty
wrists
and the colors are so beautiful.

she hardly ever wears rings
but for the purple one,
maybe an amethyst
that sits upon one of her fingers
and she will flinch
even wince if you try
to touch it.

but sometimes, maybe just once or twice,
you might even manage to
forget
that her necklace,
and those lovely bracelets
and that beautiful amethyst
which she wears so very proudly
is made up of

**fingerprints.

I. i am in love with the hurricane of you
i fall asleep to the thought of your smile
and wake thinking of your eyes
i am rendered
speechless
by your beauty
my senses are full of you
and I could so easily be
consumed
by you.

II. i could spend all of my forevers
holding you tight
and tracing endless love letters
along the curve of your spine
i know the lines of
your face
like the back of my hand
the moon and stars are
nothing
compared to
you.

III. knowing you is a privilege
i'm not sure how i earned
but i feel so
lucky
to hold
you
to kiss
you
and to love
you.

she will cradle her head
in patchwork hands
and her
lips crack and out
spills words
explosively.

tears trace peculiar
tracks down
porcelain cheekbones
that jut out
much too harshly
under the dying stars.

cold moonbeams
dance over her hips
and
light upon
the desperation
in her eyes.

invisible bruises are painted
onto her
soul
and when she
smiles
you can almost see them.

a cigarette pressed to
dry cracking lips
will be all she wants
when she
is slowly
slipping.

she will never
breathe a word of
the betrayal
she felt
when her own body
failed.

and when her skin is
paper-white
you will press
trembling kisses to the
backs of her hands
and cry.