I would use the force of mind to illustrate things.
To solve things, and to love things the way they should need to be loved by the air they breath.
I can't control the musings of my hairy body.
It ate my soul up and sprouted fleshy wings of blood and
and
and
hey.
I like you.
Don't let me talk too much and ***** this up.

They tell me I waste too much time flirting with the stars
They don't know the pleasure it gives to my cold heart.

I feel like there should be a great poem spawning from this blatant attack on my heart
With linguistic tips and turns coinciding with my emotion
But that's just it.
There is none.
You have drained every last ounce of feeling from my body
So, naturally, when you made a big and public spectacle of how you desire her
I stood there stone-faced, frozen in stoical silence
The perfect poker face, you'll never catch my bluff
I saw that glance in my direction and smiled in return
That classic fake smile that never meets my dead eyes like a forged signature on an oath that avers everything's all right

I hope the bridges I burn,
Lead the way.
Just for a day,
I want a say.
Because it hurts,
And you just flirt,
But now I'm just digressing,
Instead of confessing.

That was my smile.
A little uneven, a lot of perfect.
That was mine. And you gave it to her.
**You really ought to stop giving away my things.

Understood, no? ;-)

There is a place between a relationship
and just friends

A place just past friends with benefits, but
still a few blocks from a relationship

Its saying cute and silly things
with only a hint of actual meaning

Its smiling at your message
but knowing you only half way mean it

Its staying up until 2 am to talk,
and not regretting it in the morning

Its unspoken I Love Yous
replaced by
I like you,
but not enough.

You held my hand like you did that one night.
(The one that I think about far too often)
Stroking your thumb and occasionally squeezing to start a fight,
I still find it cute.
And yet, the only way we communicate is still face to face.
Those interactions are never what I expect them to be.
Sometimes you decide you like me, sometimes you don't, sometimes you even flirt.

But last night, when you touched me like that in the first time in almost three months, I was back.
I had been trying to get rid of the touch I still felt from that night.
(when you were much sweeter than I thought you ever could be.)

You intertwined our fingers, and stroked my hand long after we both went to sleep. I kept dreaming that something was keeping that hand warm, but then you'd squeeze my hand and I'd wake up and realize it was you.

It just makes me wonder what you were thinking.

And even though I don't want to, I'm back to seeing you in my dreams.