Live for the little things in life
Yet they are the source of my strife
I feel hopeless and empty
Look around you there is plenty
Yet it is always out of my reach
They hope to teach
You should realize I want to die
Yet you expect me to try
Fine but not for you
Everything I do will be for myself!
My heart is more or less okay
But she's long past her springtime days
And sometimes she tries to beat out of my chest
But she's stuck inside my ribcage
I wish, oh I do, to help her break away
To help her find more of her glory days, her youth
But once things are broken there isn't a way
Cannot hide from the truth
So my heart tries to fight and scream
But I'm alright
I ignore the pain in my head
I know this is no illusion, no dream
Nowhere to hide until I am dead
For those green-tinted days I yearn
The gentle sun rays
That gently caressed my heart
But time after time after time I learn
I must tear my hopes apart
Eyes made of galaxies
Colors radiating like sunrise in the morning
Giving me a vibe of a new beginning
Telling me those untold hopeful stories
How can you shine in the darkest alley?
How can you relive a dead lady?
Your eyes that couldn't lie gives me life
Your eyes, your eyes kept me alive
One look at my eyes and you read my mind
One glance at my soul and my heart pumps blood
One stare from you and I am hypnotized
Hypnotized to work all day even if I'm drained
Your eyes does all of these
It has magic, it casts spells
And I am someone willing to submit
Because you are my only reason to still breathe
put your hands to the sky
drop to your knees and cry a river of salty tears
scream out into the open air
scream until your lungs give out
yell every sinful crime you've committed
beg for forgiveness
beg for a second chance
you're reminded that you've been in this position before
only before it was an act debauchery mixed with a hope for an act of god
but now it is a full blown plea for mercy and a god like miracle
both scenarios pleading for god
and in this moment you remember that you will never find god on your knees
because god does not exist within the hollow shell of whom ever it may be you are worshipping
god exists within your own being
Dear goddess who i met over the internet.
Dear poetess who wrote me prose after prose.
Dear loner who i bonded with over long nights and coffee.
Dear sweetheart who's giggle shakes my very core even now.
Dear stranger who i know so much about but never met.
Dear hopeless romantic who i lied too.
Dear girl who i never said i love you too.
I miss you whole heartedly, you will forever be my Valentine, my Saint, my only Rose.
The saddest of feelings are pent up with nowhere to escape
I'm almost sure they feel the pain in my voice
My eyes are drowning in tears that refuse to fall
I let myself get too excited
It's all my fault
I knew it all along
I tried to outplay the system that I am all too familiar with
Orchestrating love is impossible
Please, my friends,
listen to me and take my words for what they are worth
This is an all too common mistake that hopeless romantics make
When your gut speaks to you, do no quiet it
There are so many questions in life
Questions that aren't that important like what should I wear? or what should I do with my hair?
Questions that are important like should I take my life? or should I just continue to live my life like this?
But all questions have answers
Answers you like and answers you don't
You are told that you have to go to all your appointments, to show that you are changing and getting better
You lie about everything to prove to them
It feels like you're a broken record because you have to start from the beginning
You lose hope, until you find one new person and you don't hate this person
You start to think that everything is turning around
Then bad news struck again and you can't see this person anymore
You're back at square one and you're worse than ever
The question is now WHAT'S THE POINT?
You believe there is no point
A friend tells you to not give up
You try hard
You try to stay strong and to stay clean
You've lasted longer then ever before but that thought of accomplishment is gone
Now was it worth what you did?
Love. Love is so much. Love can be that hug you get in just the right moment. Love can be the song she showed you. Love can be the first time you two had sex on the bathroom floor. Love can be an object.
Love is the sound of a pen writing and typewriter clicks. Love is the sound of keypad clicks because you know that means they're typing something just for you. Love is playlist after playlist. Love is the sound of knitting needles going back and forth and back and forth because she's knitting the scarf for you. Love is the sound of the perfume/cologne bottle spritzing. Love is the sound of pottery. Love is the sound of comforting words. Love is the sound of confessions late at night. Love is the sound of hang up buttons and cars starting up. Love is.
Love is the feeling of the universe and stars moving to my brain stem and fucking. Love is the feeling of you kissing my lips and moving slowly until you're at my collarbone. Love is the feeling of you moving my fingers to match yours. The feeling of poetry being written about me. The feeling of the zoo and butterflies, and even the robin outside moving around in my stomach because that's how you make me feel. Love is.
Love is the sight of you in the red dress that I bought you for our one month anniversary. Love is the sight of the paragraphs when I wake up. Love is the sight of seeing your wrist clean for a year. Love is the sight of waking up and realizing it's our one year anniversary. Love is the sight of nakedness. Love is the sight of you smiling. Love is the sight of our first date and delicious looking food.
Love is the smell of ha long bay and ginger tea. The smell of perfume on your girly days and the cologne on your not so girly days. Love is the smell of our house, along with bath and body works. Love is the smell of your hugs and your chapstick. Love is the smell of fresh vinyl and flower bouquets. Love is the smell of marshmallows and crackling fire. Love is the smell of weed on my favorite sweatshirt. I love the smell of your sweatshirt and that's perfect.
Love is the taste of ha long bay. Love is the taste of her lips and chap stick against me. Love is the taste of wine and blood. Love is the taste of well, love. Not much to say for taste is there? Love is you.
I love you Jess. BUT most importantly love is you. Your laugh, your music taste, and your cat. Love is your smile and your Face Time calls at 10pm before your phone goes away. Love is the long paragraphs and awkward phone calls. Love is the typing bubbles, and the emoji use. Love is Jess.