i don't want to walk with you
or to pillow talk with you
i want just you

i don't want to die with you
or to get high with you
i want just you

i don't want to curl up with you
or to be love struck by you
i want just you

i don't want cute dates with you
or to wake next to you
i want just you

i don't want to get to know you
over dinner, then to owe you
i want just you

i don't want commitment
or to have to admit that
i want more than 'just you'

though it’s a shame love has hurt me before
it's getting much harder for me to ignore:
the fact that i don't really want 'just you'
it's all the little things that i don't want to want to

Since you left me
I've become far more
Intimate
With the small hours
Of the morning
Than I ever was
With you

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

sat on a cobbled street
concealed from the prying eyes
i take a guilty drag of my cigarette
though i know you hate me smoking

i talk to myself aloud
and pretend you're here with me
whilst the smoke flows from my mouth
though i know you hate me smoking

i haven't seen you
in a while, four days to be precise
and a tear falls from my eye
because i know you hate me smoking

i miss you
every day and i miss you with all i have
if you were here you'd say i shouldn't be so sad
though you really do hate me smoking

all the times when we were high
discussing travelling through time
and the defnition of comfort
and how much you hate me smoking

now you're far away
and i'd give just about anything
to hear you one more time
to say how you hate me smoking

She's like the first thirty minutes
After a nice massage.
Tranquil.
Reassuring.
The kind of girl
Who loves to cross my mind
Just as much as she hates to look both ways.

And most days,
She wears a smile miles wide.
But that is only most days.

Some days,
She puts on her thick glassy frames
Not so that she can see more of the world,
But so that the world can see less of her.

Some days,
She would rather leave
Her mental house party
For a walk
Down her hometown avenue,
Letting the streetlights
Carve a new way home.

Those are my favorite days.
And those are the days
That matter the most.
Because those are the days
When she calls me.

You never touch me.
Why is that?
Is my skin layered in poison?
Sometimes, I think that might be it.
That, with contact
My demons will jump the static charge
Into the grooves of your fingertips,
Spreading cell by cell
Until you are consumed.
I think that is why you never touch me.

Or maybe it is fear.
I can understand that.
What if I take your message
Through rose-colored frames?
Will I become another knee-bound beggar
You refuse change?
Will you regret it?
Maybe that is the reason.

The truth is,
I just want our physical connection
To be as strong as the bridge
We've built between our minds.
I want you to touch me.

This here...my heart is a book
Sadness and hope inhabit most pages
Marred by past experiences that took
Scribbled are the ironies and broken adages

Worn pages tainted by the lowest of my days
Dark ink leave them smeared and stained Fresh ones stay crisp; free from nays
Awaiting dreams and wishes I have not gained

Silent are the pages still left unwritten
As though I have saved them for something
For future chapters yet to happen
For you to come and begin your writing

Welcome the pen that would herald a new start
Imagined it's ink to bear the flightiest notions
It would speak in volumes ensnaring the heart
It would sing a song with the sweetest of emotions

Seep in, dear ink, into my pages past and new
Seep through, dear ink, feel free to make your mark
Seep strong, dear ink, maybe you could undo
Seep true, dear ink, and bring light to the dark

But rip not the old for they forever will speak
Lessons that are learnt, strength that was bestowed
Tears that's been shed, happiness that I seek
Gloom that was braved, hope that I have sowed

Come, my heart is your book
You are the sole pen to my infinite pages
Ink are your words that would fill every nook
Eternal is the bond that would last through ages

This here...the rest of the pages are yours
Occupy them as you have in my everyday
I was saving them not knowing my course
Almost as if I knew you'd come to pen the words you'd say

A promise as sure as the sun would rise
A promise made as good as the noblest of men
My book is open to our laughs and cries
As long as you would forever remain my pen