He said,
let me be your muse.
He said,
scrawl me across every last page.
He said,
scribble poetry across the surface of my skin.
He said,
I want to be every word you’ve ever written.
He said,
I want to be the only one that matters.
He said,
I love the taste of your ink-stained mouth.
He said,
I love you.
He said,
I don’t anymore.
Do not tell me it is beautiful that I was once broken.
If anything, say it is beautiful that I am healing.
I love you like waking up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives.
I love you like never forgetting when your birthday is, like remembering how much cream you like in your coffee. I love you like knowing your favorite songs and dancing along in the living room at three in the morning with the radio low. I love you more than you could ever imagine.
You love me when it’s convenient. When she’s not in the mood. When she doesn’t call. You love me like winter days, frigid and fleeting. You love me when no one else thinks you’re worth it. You love me when no one else loves you. You stop when she changes her mind.
Which is scarier:
Realizing you are drowning,
or that you don’t care?
everyone who knows her loves her, if only just a little.
i got more into it than most.
i was standing on the edge, ready to jump, but she took my hand and then i was soaring and falling for her all at once.
all of a sudden she let go and it was too late, i was in too deep. i didn’t realize love had an off switch but she found it and i didn’t.
now i’m down here all alone,
watching her spread her wings and trying to remember how it feels to fly.
When you kiss your new girlfriend I wonder if she appreciates the fact that you taste like thunderstorms, if she can feel the crackle of lightning on your tongue.
When you toss your hair over your should and laugh at something she said I try to recall the last time I lit up your world like that.
When you don’t look my way, I remember when you didn’t love me anymore.
When you look at her, I remember when you did.

you spent years telling yourself:
hold it in.
set your jaw,
lock up your mouth and throw away the key.
let the secret rattle against the backs of your teeth
like the bars of a prison cell.
clench it in your fists.
close your eyes to keep yourself from crying,
to keep yourself from looking for just a second too long.


but she changed you.
she whispered:
baby, let it out.
open your mouth,
let the stories roll off your tongue.
tell me about every girl you never let yourself want.
welcome me home with open arms.
open your eyes when you tell me you love me.
it’s time to stop living in darkness.
let the light in.

welp, hit 15k on my NaNo novel. Only 35k to go… and 12 days.

unrequited love. definition? you and me.
we draw lines in the sand and then we cross them.
your skin is all ink. poetry and bite marks. temporary tattoos, stolen glances, hickeys on your thighs.
don’t worry. it all fades eventually.
we sit on opposite sides of the world. we sit. we freeze. we freeze and we freeze and we kiss until we are ablaze.
beneath my fingers, i can feel your heart beating. i can feel your heart stopping. my skin is icy july and burning december nights and my mouth is bruised from yours and loving and dying are all the same, i think.
when you are young, you love.
when you are young, that love burns out like a dying sun.
when you are young, you turn your heart over to the stars.
she still lingers on my lips. i do not want her to stay there. i want every last morsel to slip between my teeth. chew. swallow.
this is the last supper. somewhere in this room, there is a judas. she will kiss me and i will think she is a messiah. sometimes we forget the difference.
sometimes it’s all the same thing.
we draw lines in the sand and then we cross them.
your skin is all ink. poetry and bite marks. temporary tattoos, stolen glances, hickeys on your thighs.
don’t worry. it all fades eventually.
we sit on opposite sides of the world. we sit. we freeze. we freeze and we freeze and we kiss until we are ablaze.
beneath my fingers, i can feel your heart beating. i can feel your heart stopping. my skin is icy july and burning december nights and my mouth is bruised from yours and loving and dying are all the same, i think.
when you are young, you love.
when you are young, that love burns out like a dying sun.
when you are young, you turn your heart over to the stars.
she still lingers on my lips. i do not want her to stay there. i want every last morsel to slip between my teeth. chew. swallow.
this is the last supper. somewhere in this room, there is a judas. she will kiss me and i will think she is a messiah. sometimes we forget the difference.
sometimes it’s all the same thing.
stay-goldd-ponyboy:
Does a lot of your poetry come from experience? You have such an amazing way with words.

It varies. Some of my poetry is written from prompts, or stories that people send me. Some of those stories apply to me, some don’t. The rest is all based off of my own experiences though. 

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.