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…

Advertisements

cynicism.

I think it’s sad,

that some people never look up at the sky anymore,

that they never talk to imaginary friends, instead they let the silence drive them insane.

that they will let the light leave their children’s eyes, and accept it as ‘reality…”

that they will forever wonder how to pay the bills, how to make the next paycheck count,

cynicism is a sickness,

and many of us are unwilling victims.

cynicism is a sleepiness,

and many of us may never wake up…

 

burned bridges.

I am not who I once was

all my poetry seems to hit that resounding note

maybe, I can’t get past the fact

I have murdered my old self, and no one notices

or that I love watching bridges burn

the charred remains of the ‘glory days’

a ghost wandering these hallowed grounds,

why do I live in nostalgia?

why do I wish for the past?

when I can recall each plunge of my weapon

and burying this part of me in the back of my mind

home.

I planted flowers in my backyard
and painted the walls yellow
I locked the front door,
and told fear she could
find someone else to room with.

The stairs stopped creaking
with the steps of people that abused me,
and I blared music loudly
and opened all the windows
allowing light to finally touch parts of me

I danced, and laughed
pulled out all the old photographs
of what I had, but never quite lost
I have never felt more at home
in my own mind

 

we’ll be poetry.

I get tipsy off tea samples, and you don’t mind at all.

I sang along to the song in the car, and you laughed at my dramatic reenactment.

I am raw at midnight, and we sit and talk on the couch.

I communicate with you through glances, smiles, and winks.

Someday, we’ll drive to the best place to watch the sunrise, and order cappuccinos at a drive thru.

We’ll name the stars, and you’ll paint the sun coming over us.

We’ll forever be set in poetry.