someone once told me
pain is like water;
you need a little
to know you're alive,
but too much
will drown you.
and now I think
isn't it funny
how the things we do
to feel alive
are the things
that can **** us?
i suppose
it's because
we just want to feel
**something

If I were a painter,
he would definitely be my muse.
But amidst the shades
of black, gray, and blue
there wouldn't be
a color dark enough
to match the sadness
in his eyes.

☔

1 teaspoon of fear
1 pint of hope
A dash of bitterness
2 cups of shame
12 ounces of insecurity
3 unspoken words

A simple recipe
Creating this awkward situation
Between the two of us

~    
        All the poems I write
     are just the beginning
                              and end
               of every thought
   I've ever had about you.

There's nothing more romantic
          in my eyes
        Than holding your hand
   And talking about our lives
          Because in my mind
The only thing better than the fantasy
        Is the intimacy I feel
  When it's just you and me
            *connecting

you forget
you are a poet
and accidentally
make sense

Sometimes i catch you
watching me
as i attempt to subdue
my obnoxious laughter
and sometimes you catch
my eyes
fixated on you,
as you throw your head back in laughter;
and we stare into each other's eyes
a little too long
before i turn away shyly.
your eyes are still on me aren't they

When we sat on the sofa
on the last day of school
in the dimly lit Pool Hall,
you put your arm over my shoulder
and pulled me closer
what was in your mind?
we were sitting thigh to thigh,
you called my name,
I turned.
our faces
were so close
that i nudged
the glasses perched on your nose
with my cheek.
did your heart skip a beat like mine?

When we were eating alone
i think i said something stupid
and your grin was so wide that
your eyes curved into crescent moons,
and your grin so bright
wow
that i had to turn away.

Today, we sat beside each other
and you inched
a little closer.
you gingerly put your head
on my shoulder
just a second
and then sprang up,
as though too shy to lean on me for longer.

When we were walking
and our hands bumped against each other
many times
your thumb and index finger
held my little one
just a second
and my heart skipped
just a beat.

We are not lovers.
but we are not
just friends
and i'm not sure
if i want us
to be anything more
than just this.

​
They tell me that I'm a good poet
That I have a way with words.
They tell me that I can make the simplest things sound beautiful.
That I can make a flower bloom
Just by stringing 26 letters of the alphabet into a sentence.

They tell me that I'm complex.
That they have to read between the lines just to figure me out.
They tell me that I make the easiest things complicated
That I can turn my McDonald's order into rocket science.

They tell me this
They tell me that
They. They. They.
But you,
Oh baby, you,
You didn't tell me anything.
You never felt the need to.
You accepted me.
Flaws and all.

You accepted the way I made gardens grow all around us,
You told me you loved the way I turned the carpet into our personal meadow.
You accepted the way I ordered my mcchicken burger
Even if it took forever for them to understand my words.
You showed me that it was okay to be me,
To be unique.
To be able to turn the abc's into rocket science,
The 1,2,3's into the tip of the iceberg
To be surrounded by metaphors and little jigsaw puzzles that everyone thinks they can figure out
But when they get frustrated they leave, their mood gone south.
But you stayed.
Patient.

To this day I can't get the courage to thank you,
I've tried
God knows I have
But this,
This is my final attempt.
No metaphors,
No similes,
Just me.

So thank you baby,
My McDonald's order will forever remain encrypted
And my words,
Complicated.
But us...
We're asymptotes.
Destined to come so very close,
But never intersecting