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Elliott Jun 2017
I have tried many ways to think of her but
Astronomy was the only way I could write on.
I've tried to comfort her out of despair, but
I couldn't find the words to take her out of pain.
When I heard he made her cry,
I wanted to take the pain out of her,
put them into his face and my fists as
I hit him into the oblivion space we know space to be, and
him see the stars closer than any telescope had seen.
I wouldn't mind being in pain for a little while so
the sun could dry her tears,
she was trying so hard to hide.

Would it be so terrible for me to remind her
how the stars bowed in her presence?
Would It be so terrible for me to show her
nobody sees the stars
and the beauty of night anymore
because they are afraid of her
and the beauty she brings?
I too scared to ask if she knows
how you left her after class
to scream at the universe for
making her believe
she was anything less,
than the closest thing to perfection
the universe has to offer. Does she
know how you've collected books of
nebulas in your heads that show when
she decides to laugh? Does she know
you how hard this is for you, to sit here
and smile and joke like your heart
doesn't break with hers as you see her
in a pain deeper than imaginable and you
know it. It spans across all universes and expands
further than your love of poetry and your longing to
hug her and tell her it's going to be okay, but
you know that's not true,
and you can never make that true.
So you sit here,
and write a love poem never to be read,
because that means something would die inside you
or her
if you shared how much of the universe you could give to her
how much of the universe
and the stars
and the planets
and the comets
and meteors
you could shower her with
if she knew how beautiful she was....
ugh
Elliott Jun 2017
I am reaching out for you. I reach to the deep corners of my heart where the darkness begins by its shadows cover; where there was a small hole from the first woman I loved.

I'm reaching to pull the arrow that grown baby in the diaper shot me in the *** with,

I'm reaching for where he's missed and shot and left scars is big as that gaping hole in my heart that Never seemed to heal correctly.

I'm reaching. I'm reaching for the day I saw you in that wheelchair my first day of marching band and someone said we'd be a cute couple of shorties.

I'm reaching for the day I switched seats and you were directly across my black eyes and I could feel my pupils dilate at least 45 percent.

Oh god this is amazing.

I'm reaching into the corners of my mind where I keep my biggest secrets and I'm reaching for you.
Another lovesick love poem

— The End —