Uh huh.

"...I want to run my hands over your soft body, taste your amazingly delicious mouth, and lay next to your warm being..."

Etc, etc, etc...

Boy,

I love the way you talk.

L-

There is a space,
where I count up all of the times I've thought about how amazing you are.
As there is another,
where I realize all this counting hurts.
Both spaces are filling.

And,
like a lover,
you couldn't possibly believe me.

-y.

For Y

I don't know if you know it, but I did hear you.
And I wonder if there are others like us, as we harmonize with the buzz of a vacuum.

I wonder if they know too.

All those silly promises that you make when your in love, knowing you can't keep them.

Tragedy.

Jack be nimble.
Jack be quick.
Jack jumped over the candlestick.
But he missed,

Dieing in wax.

Her again.

She stares at the window.

Watching the rain.
It falls.
It falls.
Learning to write with periods,
she's trying.
Learning to make more sense,
she's thinking.
She wonders.
How many daffodils can fit in your head?
How many buttercups can show the sun?
and dear,
why am I thinking of flowers?
She screams to herself.
Or utters.

And in truth,
she never really was so sure.

What would you call...

...the difference between

true love
and
love?

Would it be an

impurity,
sin,
damnation,

if love proved unpure?

And dear,
what is,
pure?

Untarnished,
unblemished,
white?

vs.

tarnished,
blemished,
and
black?

and pray tell,
what measures,
love?

to be false,
fake,
a joke.

vs.

real,
sincere,
and secure.

and really,
when you think about it,

what proves right or wrong?

It was her canvas of sorts. And the only thing she couldn't create was honest company.

She'll sit at the end of the world with a no-one and two nothings: one in either direction. The difference between the nothings being, that the nothing in front of her is a nothing full of potential. Just like she is. The nothing behind her however, is dead, dying, closing, closed. Her laughter will ring out into it all, and the existing world will explode around her feet. With everything gone, the nothings will become one big blank playing fielf for her empty sheltered thoughts. And she will flawlessly sculpt her potential deep into it, but with no satisfaction, because she's the only one watching.
There was never a point. But oh, the joys.

love.

"And you will love your crooked neighbor,
with all your crooked heart."

-a. y.

I had the strangest fear today.

I was afraid that all those heavy clouds creeping over me were about to fall and crush everything I ever loved.
Then the sun peeked around them and said.... I don't know what it said.

But it was nice.

To Whatever His Name Was

"If I could, I'd go back to all the moments I wanted to kiss you...

And I'd kiss you."

-Unknown

Me.

She likes the smell of stale air.
It reminds her of herself.

She likes the look of periods.
And cut short,
little,
sentences.
The long ones bask out for muchtoomanyforevers,
and then,
then,
then...

Although it's not expected,
she can't but help
to find her self
writing,
scribbling,
plotting,
these muchtoomanyforevers.
All filled with ridiculous commas.
Commas.
Another thing she hates.

Perhaps she writes long, so that she,
can cast herself in their own lengthy shadows.
So that she can become important.

She likes the look of mirrors.
They remind her of herself.

if everyone
that loves
and lives

dies alone

then please
tell me where
i'm supposed

to die?

In case of rain

I like to open windows wide.
Tell the world, "Come, cry in my house, on my shoulder! I'll bask in your sorrow, and when we're ready, the sun will be so much brighter than ever before!"

I Love To Play Pretend (In Reverse)

It's getting easier

To convince myself

That nothing

In the last 10 months

Ever happened.

And honestly,

I don't know why I like it so much.

Logic

you can be a cloud

and fight and fight


but in the end



every cloud




always cries.

(Time cannot be measured.)

Watch the clock.



Soon,



it will hurt.

A secret:

Twice,

I've loved.

Once,

I've been loved.

Let me tell you

.




NOTHING

IS REALLY

EMPTY

Height and Restraint...

I am thankful for being short. It allows me to hide amongst rows of shirts and shoes as the terrifying stalkerish store attendants (is that what you call them?) attempt to give me very unwanted help. In Zumies, that is. Not that I needed to hide, I'm over that. Though I did find myself restraining from slipping a package of silly putty, and struggling to move my feet towards checkout on multiple occasions, I did it.

Open up

I wonder,
What
Is the importance
Of forming
Words
Into

t
h
i
n

Columns?



I______Like______To______Leave______Things______Open.

Becoming Android.

Wires wandered through her veins
Her hair turned into golden chains.
And her skin was platinum silver,
No one thought it would'a killed her.

When in doubt... mumble.

And when mumbling fails, contain your screams.
Residing in your mind, you know they'll be fine. It's a good place for them.

It's Alive

I'm beginning to see faces in all the wrong places...

Love Makes Them Cold

Her: One day I'm going to freeze to death from missing you too much.
.
He: No.
One day I'm going to be with you all the time.
And you will never be cold
.
Her: :)
...How far away is that?