let me love you.

let me be your best friend,
I want to bury your secrets in my ribcage
I want to have movie nights,
and inside jokes.

let me be your soulmate,
I want to dance in the kitchen,
to get on my tiptoes to kiss your lips softly,
to wink at you in crowded places.

let me be your shoulder to cry on,
to hold you when you’re breaking
to help to stich you back up
let me tell you I hate to see you like this.

let me fight with you,
get frustrated at something you said,
or you not agree with me,
and then making it work out.

let me tell you, you’re my favorite thing
fill the passenger seat in your car,
have messy hair and sleepy mornings
and laugh at the snide remarks people will make.

let me love you…

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in & out

on key singing;

your voice ringing in my head all week.

car window searching;

it’s your face I look for every time.

 

my favorite songs tells a story;

that I never heard until you came.

everyone tells me the rumors,

that I never heard from you.

 

the city lights shine,

like fallen stars.

I wonder where you are,

in the vast sky.

 

in and out of love;

we got lost before we found each other.

I’m tired of searching for you,

and you’re not even trying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

change.

I am the girl who calculates the risks,
who writes poetry about life,
who sips her tea and tries to
decide if she even has a future.
I am a
flight risk, with a fear of failing.
fear of falling
in love
I hate change,
you came along with your
mischievous ocean eyes,
musical soul,
and spindly hands
and told me
change
could knock the breath out of you

now, I write poetry for you,
I sip my tea and dream
of you
(boy, with the calm persona)
and, maybe this time I won’t have to run
or bury it away, because I
romanticize and I become overly jealous at times
because, you’ve taught me
change is beautiful

 

3 A.M

 

3 A.M. and I’m wondering if you’re up;

if you’re alive,

holding on by a thread,

like I am,

and the hours dwindle by slowly.

 

I’m talking to my ceiling,

and thinking it’s you,

yet the ceiling doesn’t

have your warmth

but it has the same blank stare

and pasty coloring.

 

So, I keep telling it how I miss

the way we would

scribble our names on each other’s hands

and how you’d kiss my cheek softly

or we we’d sit on the roof and

you’d tell me I was prettier than the night sky.

 

and, I tell it I wish you wouldn’t

have seen me hit rock bottom

I wish I would’ve let you hold me that one night

I told you to go away and never come back

and how you listened…

and I haven’t seen you since.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You See Me Differently

 

You say I’m crazy, untrustworthy, and sensitive.

You say I have too many trust issues, low-self esteem, and bad judgement.

I wish you were wrong, but you’re right…I’m all of those things.

Do you know how many people I’ve let in? Not many. This girl without makeup, that tries not to cry because she’s lonely and trying to not give into the anger that swells inside her soul.

You don’t see the same girl I see in the mirror. You hold my hand, and don’t look at my wrist slashed with scars. You hold me, and don’t see me shudder because intimacy scares me. Your naivety reminds me of the girl I used to be. Before, I remembered things and I let my past hold me down.

Yet–your naiviety frustrates me. You expect too much of me. I try to explain it to you, and you don’t grasp the concept.

Somehow, I’ll get over it, I promise myself on some abandoned road and you’re a thousand miles not even thinking about me.

But, your eyes are the only thing that are constantly are on my mind.

 

 

 

I Don’t Know…

I know you don’t understand me,

how I tell you Grecian myths relating to the constellations,

how the smell of books and coffee is somewhat of a drug to me,

how I drift into a eerie silence and I lose myself in a daydream,

how I strive for perfection, but never ask it of anyone else.

I worry too much about everything under the sun.

You tell me to relax, but it’s hard to tell myself everything will be alright.

And, I don’t know if this will work out, but–I’d like to hope it will.