its dark, cold and full of echoes
when i whisper.

there is barely oxygen,
im breathing but my lungs feel empty.

i can almost taste
the loneliness in the air.

very very bland,
and meaningless.

if i could use a explicit word,
i wouldnt.

The walls,
they admonish.

it was pink then yellow then purple,
then it darkened and slowly turned black.

it wasnt the sharp pain that killed her,
but the numbing chill that crept up her poor scrawny neck.

it wasnt knives and swords that stabbed her heart,
but splinters of loneliness that were carefully woven around it.

it wasnt that she didnt seek help at all,
but there was so much, she didn’t know where to begin.

it wasnt the map that made her lost,
but it was the rain and the wind and the places she didnt belong.

it wasnt the people round her that drove her up the wall,
but the cockroaches of love that rampaged on the floor.

it was pink, then yellow then purple,
and suddenly it lightened and it didn’t feel so bad, after all.

Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.