I remember that first poem you wrote me,
and every last bit of your last poem broke me
maybe you are unaware,
that this is hard for me too..

because yes i have dreams and stars I'm chasing
but yours is not the heart I wanted to start breaking
and right now i just need you,
to be the best friend i'm trying to be to you too..

So don't get upset or hurt when i say this
But give up on me so we can both make it,
make it to the finish line,
your friendship is the first cup prize to me..

And don't fall apart if i fall for someone,
who will hurt me again and again
oh just be there,
to help me be strong,
to help me be strong as i can be..

And maybe you'll tell me i'm worth it though I'm flawed and can't see the truth,
but maybe i need you in a different way
maybe i love you too
but its not enough for both our worlds to collide..

But I know you'll be tough, 'cause you're still singing on the other side..

I tend to leave things
Leave things as it is.

Like that guy I like a year ago
I never expressed my feelings.

The books that I promised to write in it
Few pages were filled
Then,
It is there for most of the time a few pages filled.

The book that I promised to read
I only get to read a few pages.

These feelings of hatred?
I left it there in my heart and never touched it again.

The worries I have in my mind?
Never did anything to make those worries gone.

You see,
I'm afraid of commitment.
Afraid that things would not go as planned
Afraid that people would not do the same thing to us
Afraid that things would just be a waste of time and energy
And

Afraid that people would not just give the same commitment to us.

The reasons are always even with a twist of words.

I tend to leave things as they are because I'm afraid of changes that I would not settle down for.

He writes poems
the way he chooses what to wear in the morning
He does these two things like a child
learning Spanish, and he loves the language
very much, so why does it matter?
He feels at home
because Summer is eternal, being
the onions he hides under his floorboards
under his bed
He says, "They smell like shastas."

a cigarette on his dry lips,
he is cold, he grips
onto the lit cigarette,
imagining a person's
neck,
and he is determined
to break it.

why don't you sleep?
why don't you take the leap?

what makes you so afraid?
why does your life fade?

without your beauty sleep,
you will be a creep,
with purple circles
and no miracles.

nothing helps you,
nothing keeps you,
you are alone,
and all along you've known.