Stay silent,
eyes sewn shut,
and you can almost hear
the whispers
from where they once were
when they were still here;
chatter,
laughter,
now only a blur, white noise.
you get used to it, you know?

Stay silent,
with every sore step
on blistered soles,
and you can almost hear
the shattering of abandoned dreams
fractions upon fractions;
the satisfying cracking
almost like an attraction
a sick addiction
of mine.
you get used to it, you know?

Stay silent,
with the company of only your shadow,
and you can almost hear
every breath of this
godforsaken town,
breathing in... and out...
a frosty wind blowing at your fingertips,
only to reassure a sense of belonging.
you stay awake as the city drowns
into an awful slumber.
until my demons find me, I'll walk alone,
you'll get used to it, anyway.

I wish you could be here to feel my heart flutter when I think about you
Funny, because I hardly know you, but I still wish to be in your arms.
Arms which I've ever felt.

You're an enigma to me; mysterious yet captivating,
and I want to solve you.
I want to pick up your pieces and put them together like a jigsaw puzzle.
I want to see the picture they make when they come together,
and cry when I have to take it apart put the pieces back in the box.

I want to fall asleep thinking about you, and get a text message that you are thinking about me too.

I want to hold your hand and trace the lines on your palm, The heart line and life line, and laugh when yours and mine match.

I want to lean in close and whisper secrets only we know
and you'll whisper back that you agree.

I want you to mess my hair up.

I want my mother to be suspicious when I come home wearing your sweatshirt and not mine.

I want to lay out in the grass together watching the clouds with headphones in, listening to Green Day because I know you like them.

I know that much about you.
I know your eyes are brown and dark
and your mother thinks you are gorgeous.

I know your speech slurs when you get excited and start talking fast.

I know you tease me, and I think you like me too, but I don't know that for sure.

I know you have a silly ring of hat hair when you leave work, and I hate it but I love it too.

I know I recall all these things about you to write this poem, and I'm smiling as I think about you.

I wonder what you are doing right now, not this, for sure, you're probably playing Xbox with your friends and thinking about graduating in two weeks.
But not me, I'm thinking about you, funny, I know, because I really hardly know you, but maybe that's okay, maybe one day I will know something about you.