I kissed him today.
And a tiny part of me wished that it
would have been you.

Then I remembered that
your fingertips never wrote
novels down my spine
and your voice didn't
sing melodies into my chest.

You never understod
the stories written on my wall
and on my skin.

In that moment,
I realized that we were
a fairytale;
always trying to be something we never were.

But this with him...is real.
And sometimes, it seems,
the better stories are the ones
we write for ourselves.

I've been trying to write about you for hours,
hoping the words will flow naturally,
and finally it'll all make sense.
But the hours have become days
and the words never came
so I'm just as confused as when I began.

a warm embrace, your smiling face
butterflies with your every touch
the thought had never crossed my mind
that I could ever want so much

I sit here now with only my dream
a dream of you on a peaceful night
a warm breeze brushing your soft brown hair
it tickling my face as I’m holding you tight

reality takes a darker hue
the longer and farther
I get from you

a painful reality
when I let myself wake
I realize the truth
and let my heart break