so then all your flaws
connect like constellations in the sky
because "i love you"
will stay despite

Snowflakes gently fall
Christmas lights illuminate the streets
Families gather insider their homes
And I just keep walking, searching for home

I took the nomad life, long ago
To find my meaning
To find my purpose
But now I'm just lonely
I never found, what I went searching for

Years have passed now
On this sleepy old town
But here I am
Back on the door step
Of the place I once left

This pen and paper
Will never be enough
These thoughts are too much
And my ink has run thin
I can't put into words
What runs through my head
The sentences won't form
It's just a bunch, of jumbled up words
I have so much to say
But I'll never know how to get it out
If one day it comes
Pray I have ink to write it

I only read what I relate too 

I only write what I think or feel
I only talk when spoken too 

I only listen to music that sparks emotion

I try to have meaningful conversations

I overthink poetry

I overthink situations

I am silent, but I think a lot 

I have my own opinions 
and dreams

I care too much 

sometimes I’m too emotional 
sometimes I’m too emotionless

I’ll cry all at once 
or
never at all
I’m sometimes funny 

sometimes too sarcastic and rude

I’m black, white and grey

But this is who I am 

I am only me.

i don't believe in extremes
to follow the belief
that one has to be something
and not the other
is absolutely absurd
or at least somewhat absurd
because i don't believe in extremes

when you told me you loved me
every part of me
my twists and turns
and the sharp curbs of my dark alleys
where i keep the real monster
i scoffed
brushed it off
like the momentary dust
that, i believed, mimicked your sentiment

but when you came looking for me
when i was intoxicated
with something strange
not just alcohol
two hours before the sun started to rise
i looked at you and i swear
i swear
i had to catch myself
because i thought of something
only ***** gave my brain courage to think
i never would have thought this
before you

see, i never believe in extremes
well...
believed

darling you are my sun

my whole system gravitates

towards you

and darling, i don't mind being set ablaze

my skin being scorched

by your open flame

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

it's incredible
how i stopped wishing
that somehow
we'd get caught under a mistletoe

Their footprints are
deep from carrying
cannons to
gun-
fights.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.