i dont know if i was ever intended to fall for the boy with carpet burn eyes and a short circuit smile
if something in me decided that your soul and my soul were encased in the same shrine to whatever pain we dedicate ourselves to today
if i am supposed to hang off of you like paint peeling from the nails of a girl with too many words left stirring in the bottom of her drink
i cannot be one of thousands it has never been my scene
independence means leaving before the rings turn to shackles turn to boats sailing toward your latest hope of peace
i have left my heart open and you climbed in through the window
desperately demanding that breaking and entering implies that there was something in me left to be broken by you

call me intense but i have never been one to tiptoe down the side of a mountain
i am like fire to gasoline and you? my latest indie passion scene
a winters night in your sight the moment you let me go
i dont know how to say that you bring out the best in me
i dont know the vocab word for my tongue swelling up emotionally
i want to point to all the posters on my walls and tell you about all the ex lovers that never loved me and never loved this sanctuary half as much as i did
poems like this have always been glazed over and pained through
never thinking that i would need to compare thee to a summers day
because what kind of ******* is that?
you, by far, you are a sunrise, my dear.
you bring the awakening of spring and the deafening of me
you have the power of angels and the weakness of achilles
and so, you wait.
you make your presence known in colors burnt with embers of pain and disdain
like little birds that have yet to leave their nest
unaware of the hate that awaits the entrance of their lives
like a lover's dress, dipped in passion, spinning in endless nights of dazed contentment
synonyms and straining for the right way to say the same three words
i have never been one for fairy tales
but this is a year of firsts it seems

if love is abandoning my writing because i don't know where all the pain went
perhaps this is love
if love is laying awake fighting the melatonin with methylfolate in your smile
perhaps this is love
if love is slamming doors and being unable to feel anything but you
perhaps this is love
if you could call redownloading the happy songs on my playlist and in my head "love"
perhaps you're right
i am too adolescental to know
all i know is that i have not felt passion like his touch since i can remember
he makes me numb and yet i feel everything at once
how dare he
he is the reason i lose sleep and my parents lose patience
how dare he
he is the reason i am allowing myself to feel things and not force poetry out like a dying fruit to the thirsty
but sometimes it flows on its own
how dare he
to bring my mind away from all ive ever known and all ive ever felt and refuse to call me his own
i have never wanted to be own
if love is the phrase "there's a first time for everything,"
perhaps this is love after all

you are not allowed
to wrangle my heart and call me yours
you are not allowed to catch my attention and walk right past
to flower your existence with the smallest of humanities and call yourself good
you are not allowed to cloak me in apologies draped over my eyes so that i may never see the evil my right hand is making
and you are most definitely
not allowed to occupy this dusty heart
and yet here we are

i wish there were more ways to say that i found an oasis in the form of your touch
i wish i could count the pains that i carry like satchels everyday
strung off my shoulders
i wish i knew why i refused to let them fall
i wish gravity would just have its way with me
toss me aside and find a new giddy little thing to run this so called world
i wish i knew how to tell you that i want to be a bird
not because they can fly away from here
not because they grace their homes with bright colored feathers i could never adorn
but because they are hollow
they are hollowed out, weak, frail and somehow it makes them stronger
or perhaps i wish not to be hollow
but to filled with something other than you

i will lay back and look up to see rock bottom
i will pretend it doesn't hurt to stay alive
i will be on time
i will not return myself to sender no matter how many times i address the envelope
i can't
i won't
i will pretend i feel the things i should
happiness to see my favorite heart
anger at the news
joy to eat what used to taste like anything
anxiety to look him in the eyes
and imagine the future i used to think id have
disgust at my dissection specimen
i will not wish to be lying there in its place
prodded
looking up to see rock bottom

maybe one day
i won't have to talk you off a ledge
for you to say you love me.