Maybe I've had my happiness
Maybe we only get one chance
Only one shot at our dreams
Why would the universe believe in us if we can't even believe in ourselves?
Maybe these things do take time
But perhaps my hourglass
has cracks in it's figure
And now the only thing running out
Is me

(F)AMILIAR
(E)legance
(M)orality
(I)ntellectuality
(N)oise
(I)ndp­endency
(N)imbleness
(E)fficiency

My girlfriend is a brunette.

Still feels weird calling her that.
Or him - sometimes she's a he and
that's fine.
She's not a gender to me.
She's a person.
She's my person.

But as I've said before,
carving it out with black on white;
I'm broken inside. I'm broken inside and
I don't know how to
feel.
Am I scared or am I
emotionless?
What is that sinking ache in my stomach?
Would my mom look at me
differently,
blow it out of proportion,
if she knew?

If she knew
I loved the girl next door when I was eight.
If she knew
I drew a picture of our wedding and hid it
because even when I was a kid
I felt like a disgusting disappointment.
If she knew
I kissed a girl in my class when I was in the fourth grade.
If she knew
I've been this person all this time.
I'm not different. I am the same. The same person I was three months ago. Before I had figured this out. Before I had figured me out.

My girlfriend is a brunette
and her sweet-tasting love is
all I've got
spinning around in my head
right now.
It's all I can think about. It's all, it's all I can think about.

Darling,
I have been thinking.
Lately, I think I am starting
To forget how to pour my feeling
Into words

I used to write about my sorrow
About the broken vow
That I used to swallow
I used to feel hollow
I was so low
I was afraid to face tomorrow

Until you came up here,
Trying to take all the fear
And I thank you for this, my dear

I do realise that
I never write you poems anymore
Maybe because I am not one
to speak with poetry
or maybe I am just too busy
to think what words to write

I’m busy looking at the brightest eyes I have ever seen—your eyes
I’m busy listening to my favourite sound—your voice
I’m busy burying my face in your chest,
Just to smell my favourite scent—your scent.
I’m busy drowning in our sweet, passionate kiss

I couldn’t write you poems,
I can only feel,
I feel my heart beating,
And it is beating for you.

I'm running out of ways to convince you that my whole being revolves around you. You are my sun. You are the warmth on my body when the cold bitter world is giving me frostbite. I am a withered **** in the middle of winter constantly praying for you to give me the chance to bloom again. I want my ozone layers to thin and my polar ice caps to melt because you are close to me. If you set me on fire then I want to burn.

i can hear her giggling from the living room
soft giggles, loud smiles, no more bundles of gloom
shes making the boy smile
making me smile too
because the hay stack ive been looking in doesnt even have any needles
and the path i thought i was following has turned out to be my own ,
i thought i was so lost,
i was so scared that i was alone
but as it turns out,
Ive never been far from home,
i love her,
she makes me love myself
ive never wanted to be with anybody else,
im glad that i found you
because in finding you
ive manged to find myself

You are the worst thing that has ever happened… to my poetry

You see I used to write poems that make people want to set fire to the world, and cry an ocean. I used to write about death, and depression, and hope, and how I am finally okay with who I am. I use to write to inspire, I used to write about the demons under my bed and the ones in my head. I could write poems about my fears and my dreams and how ****** up this world is. But lately, all I have been about to write about is you.

My poetry has gone from a **** the world mentality to what ever this sappy stuff I have been writing lately is called.

Roses are red, violets are blue, my poetry has gone to **** and its all thanks to you

My poems are about your smile and how it can light up a room better than 1,000 suns

They are about how I get butterflies every time I see you and how there are fireworks when we kiss

They are full of overused analogies, like fireworks and butterflies

My poems are about how your eyes are like coffee, and how I love coffee, and how I love you.

They have gone from being about how sometimes I get so scared of everything my heart beats out of my chest being are about how my heart skips a beat when you say my name

They have gone from being about the problems with our society to being about how my problems tend to disappear when I am with you

They have gone from how music is my catharsis to how you are, and how when you play music I lose the ability to breathe correctly.  

They use to be about how I am afraid. How I am afraid of being afraid, I am scared of failure, I am scared not doing anything with my life, I am scared of spiders, I am scared of things changing. But all I can write about is how I am scared of losing you and scared of driving you away.

My poetry is about our stupid jokes

They are about how terrified I am that you are going to see me differently when you find out how ****** up I am

They are about how cute you are when you are sleepy and also how weird you are after the clock strikes 12

You see, I have a reputation to uphold. I am the depressing and angry poetry girl, but I can’t be that when you make me so ******* happy.

My poems are about all night video calls and awkward first kisses

They are about how no amount of time is nearly enough

They are about how we are pretty much the same person but with different faces

My poems are about your hair and how much I love it even though its always getting in the way

My poetry is about how you are the only person that manages to give me **** while simultaneously telling me I am cute

Don’t you see what I mean? You are the worst thing to happen to my poetry, but one of the best things to ever happen to me.

I am the sun
that your petals turn towards
when it is warm enough
for you to blossom

I am the rain
that you soak up and crave
in times of positivity droughts
and purposeful dehydration

I am afraid
to deny you what you need
in fear that I will be the cause
of your untimely death

I am reminded
that one must be without water
to appreciate the rain
and experience days of darkness
to fall in love with the sun

For this reason,
I do not move under the moonlight
when you require daybreak
even though my body
so desperately wants to burn

You told me about the time he ***** you
how he got you drunk first so you couldn’t fight  back
how he ripped your clothes off and covered your mouth
but he couldn’t block the scream that tore from your lips when he… when he… when...
When someone else kicked down the door and beat him ******
you finally blacked out
and woke up crying because you still knew it happened.

You told me about what came after
he named it Belle, after his favorite Disney princess
how she was going to be smart like you, and aggressive like him.
she was going to be his little girl.
you couldn’t stomach her, it, that,
couldn’t name it because giving it a name made it real
so you didn’t, you ended it, that, her,
and called it nothing, except “a grand down the wrong hole”
It made me cringe to hear you say that.

You told me about the drugs
how you forgave each other and found a higher power
******.
He dealed, so you dealed, he used so you used
he got in a beef with a rival dealer so you got shot
you tried to get out so he found you two a better god,
****.
You told me it lasted four years
before your brother found out
locked you in a motel room
and watched you writhe and scream and die
how when it was over you felt love for the first time in forever
and it was bliss.
          
You told me about the breakup
how he waited for you after school
grabbed you and knocked you out
how you woke up chained to a bed
naked, gagged, alone with him
how he spent the week torturing you
shocking, beating, cutting, hitting… touching
how he split town after.

Then you told me you lied
he never existed.
You spent a year convincing me I was fixing a girl scarred by the most damning of men
only to tell me that the only broken thing about you was your word.

I love the way she walks put me in some sort of daze, it makes other people seem like they are just sitting down, but I've seen her before these days, I don't know why I notice it now.