The hands on the clock can only count my love for you for one day, I love you for a million more.
I love you Ryan, more than you even can fathom...
Falling in love with you was like cliff diving into rushing waters, I knew I would drown, but I jumped anyways.
Nothing I did could stop me from being dragged down to the bottom, the sea of you engulfed me.
Water filled my lungs and you just watched me. I was screaming, kicking, and doing everything I could to stay afloat.
I forgot to tell you I can't swim.
I felt you in the air that night.
The windows were shut but a breeze still ignited a wave of goose bumps all over my body.
Wrapped up in blankets, I felt the touch of your frosted fingertips on my shoulder.
My love was never warm enough to melt your arctic presence.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think
about the way your hands felt
intertwined with mine, or the way
your hair gently danced on your
shoulders, or how your dimples
would form into canyons when I
made you laugh, or how your
freckles were their own tiny
constellations in the night sky,
or how the sound of your voice
could calm the harshest storms,
or when I kissed you it felt like I was
myself and I was comfortable
with you, with us... and I can’t
shake the feeling that maybe
somewhere I went wrong... I was
silly to hide you from the world
when you deserved to be every
billboard in the world. I was young,
and you were the first girl I ever
kissed, and that scared me.
In honour of pride month I wanted to share a personal poem I wrote
chest on top of chest
hot and heavy breath
goosebumps all over
mouths trailing off
skin is warm to the touch
stong arms hold me closer
show me what love really is.
I hope you read this.
I hope when you hear these words,
your stomach becomes upset.
I hope that you spend time,
reading every poem I’ve sent.
I hope hearing this kills you.
none of the poems I’ve written, ones about falling in love, ones about being in love, and even falling out of love,
have never been about you.
frankly, because I never loved you.
The sound of your heart beating is liking a ringing in my ear; playing for hours, upon hours. The regular thump of it engraved into my brain.
It sounds of a broken faucet,
letting droplets of water,
drip out one by one.
On nights when I cannot close my eyes, your beating heart plays through my head and I fall deeply, not only into sleep, but in love.