Call me an old fashion man
I like holding my girls hand
I like spending time together
Talking about how the day went and the weather
I like going out on dates
I don't care if you take food from my plate
I like holding her when she's cold
Let her know that I'm there to keep her warm
I like telling her how my day went
How she listens to me when I need to vent
I like to hear her voice
How when she sees me she feels rejoice
How she tells me her story about how she grew up
How she dresses her self and puts on her makeup
How she comforts me when I'm feeling down
But I hate to see her frown
I love to buy her flowers
Her favorites are sunflowers
I love to surprise her with gifts
Out of the blue just get her a teddy bear with ribbons
She loves how I open doors for her
I love to show her off everywhere
Present her as the center of attention
Let everyone know she's mine, it's all about presentation
I'm not afraid to show affection
When she's afraid, I'll be her protection
Call me old fashion
But my woman is my passion

His "I love you" came swiftly.
Like the monsoon pouring down on a leaky roof
Those three words broke through my defences.
At first they were an ambrosia;
They sustained my life and our relationship.
At least for a short time.

Then "I love you" became an excuse;
For absences, and purpose-filled accidents.
And I ignored the warning signs, the flashing lights.
I pretended like "I love you" was enough...

...But it wasn't.
His "I love you"s were like band-aids on bullet wounds;
Like using play dough to fix cracks in concrete walls.
But I rationed our good memories,
I held on as tight as I could to our love
And watched as it slipped through my fingers.

His "I love you"s became poison,
That seeped deep into my bones,
And turned blue skies grey,
And turned light into darkness,
And slowly killed whatever semblance of love
I fooled myself into thinking we had left.

I saw a God crying,
With tears turning into silver.
Curious, I started asking:
"Why does a God quiver?"

He looked at me with strange eyes.
Inside those depths are dancing dyes.
I could see a fatal sign
That this God is intoxicating; so divine.

I cannot make this God mine.
Someone so broken, needs the blessings of time.
But let me show you a crime.
Let me embrace you, hoping it will be just fine.

She's different.
She gave a different vibe.
It wasn't even close to going straight between the thighs.
I'm interested, now I know she is too.
Took many nights for this full moon.
If this works I honestly don't know what I'll do with myself. I'll be so happy I probably won't be able to contain myself.
And that will be all for you.
Not your body, money, or physical can do.
But your mind that's what has me so interested in you.
We are similar in many ways and that's the crazy thing.
I was 100% certain I was the only one going through that pain.
Well you've been hurt and it seems like it hurt your past too.
They say hurt people hurt people but what happens when two hurt people mend together to renew.
Hoping that we grow into one person would be cool.
But if it so happens that we just patch up ourselves that will suffice too.
I know this is going to mean a whole lot to you. I really hope you like reading my feelings too.
I like the praise as selfish as that seems but acceptance from people is what fuels me.
You're absolutely great in every single aspect. Your mind is intriguing and you're extremely beautiful too.

I’m sorry
I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because you’re beautiful and unbroken and I want the whole world to know
I want everyone too see how beautiful your skin is that your mother and father made, and how perfectly imperfect it is

I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because I’m scared and worried that I won’t be able to protect you more than a knife ever did
I want you to know how loved you are and how you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met

I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because I never want you to ever be hurt again; by other people or yourself
I want you to know how strong you are, and that no matter who hurts you, I believe you can pull through because you’re amazing

I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because every single scar reminds me how I was too late
I wanted to be there more and even now, I continue to miss you and worry constantly, fearing that you’ll disappear from my life and I won’t be able to be a better friend

I’m sorry
I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
I don’t mean to do it to draw people’s attention
I know you’ve gotten enough of that already
Quick glances or long stares
I just want you to know
I’m here
And
I
Care