I had a moment.
That was all
Hardly anything worth writing about.
Out of the blue,
Under a heart.
God knows I’d be the one,
Heart attack at a
Treadmill called hope.
It’s always like that
Till I’m back at the keyboard.
Wishing and hoping to make a difference
All I ever do is
Stick my head in the clouds
Marking my words,
All I want is to keep a promise to myself.
Good thing I’m still young,
I have plenty of time left to
Call it a comeback
NICE GUYS FINISH LAST…
BECAUSE WE’RE SO GOOD IN BED!
of your flaws.
mistake my kindness for naitivity,
i dare you. knowing was the easy part,
i don’t know who you think i am:
so ill spell it,
oh, if you could read.
always, always forgetting that you
can’t, except I’m sure its won’t and,
pardon my eyes,
there was a 90% chance of rain.
in time, I’m sure it’ll all clear up for me,
not so much for you.
I just want so badly to be future tense.
instead of past tense.
instead of tense.
I'm an overcast cloud, but that's nothing new.
Leave it to time because,
Offering words wouldn’t prove it to you.
Venting to a dashboard and screaming in a car to a song you’ve never listened to.
Everything I wish for is for you to just get it.
You were the sun until you were set on being the moon.
Oh, that’s sentence for sore-hearts.
Un-invite me because I can’t play this role anymore.
There’s a message in here somewhere that you’ll never be brave enough to send,
Oh! The best way to cut someone out of your life is to tell them how you feel.
This is all I want.
This is all I want. I don’t want fame, I don’t want fortune.
I don’t care if your friends don’t know who I am.
I only care that I exist to you, and that you exist to me.
I want to be a profound moment in your life.
I want to be a permanent place in your heart.
I want to be the soundtrack to your life.
I want to be the words that make you feel you belong. That you are understood. That you are loved.
Things that going to college has taught me:
1. How to be a professional sad person.
advice is a nutritional facts chart at the bottom of your favorite desert,
precursor to the chorus of a song not yet written,
call it naivety
& i wouldn’t correct you.
i seek your approval, or your dismissal
& i don’t care which
or at least if i say i do then it must be true.
I find that I often have to remind myself that
dispair is the paint brush.
Oh, here and there. Does it even matter anymore?
Please phrase that in the form of a sentence,
&& repeat after me:
"I’m wearing this mask so hard that you’ll be hard pressed to think it was anything other than my face."
the worst part isn’t even that you don’t believe me,
it’s that you don’t believe in me.
&& clapping doesn’t even bring me back to life anymore.
i want so desperately to be:
the frames of your glasses,
the skin on your neck,
the cat on your bed sheets.
&& i could write reasons.
&& i could paint pictures.
but lets be honest, it would take away from the fact that:
I belong there.