We are empty caskets. Broken Surgery tools. A banned book in a school library. We are backpacks with busted straps attempting to hold other people's problems while lacking support. Teaching our arms to only hold onto things we can complain about.

We become a teenagers forgotten toy. Under a bed and covered in dust. Our hands are winter gloves covered in holes. Hearts bleeding to find a home. Our bodies play one hit wonders with low batteries in a empty prison cell. We are prisoners of our own thoughts.

Scribbling love poems into our rib cages in hope that someone will open us up, and understand the language these lips can't speak. That the rose bouquet of bones in your body will let go of it's thorns so you know pain isn't always your fault.

Loneliness exists in lost socks behind the dryer. Let it stay there. Find the symmetry in your stem and bloom out of the depression of ruined soil. You are a buried treasure. Let them find you where you are. Snuggled up in your excellence.

A spark, a spark, a spark
An ignition in the street.
A compromise to sweep you off your feet
and repeat
why do you stand beside me?
A cheek
a kiss
a pretty hand to hold
behold
the power of how much an emotion can do.
A bottle of wine after a disappointment,
or a compliment and a kiss
of those ethereal lips.
Talk to me about why you are here.
Why me?
How do I deserve the sound of your everything?
She waits to speak in the most beautiful way
the action could possibly be completed.
Love.
The love that you give me.
The grip when you hug me,
The look when you kiss me,
The nook where you took me
And the meal that you bought me
And the lessons you've taught me
And the things you've shown
To make me a better person.
And she didn’t even know the half of it.
She didn't know that her eyes exploded with significance.
She didn't know that her smile never ended nor began.
She didn't know
how lucky I truly was
to be here.
All I knew is
I'm glad I bugged her,
I'm glad I called her,
and I'm glad that she answered.