Why should I come to you,
With my heart in my hands,
Only for you to take it from me,
And pull on my heart strings,
Making me,
A puppet of love.

Why should I look to you,
To see your face,
Only for you to turn it from me,
Your beauty is so intense,
Making me,
A sucker for love.

Why should I call to you,
And give you my name,
Only for you to throw it at me,
Like a weapon of war,
Making me,
A casualty of love.

Why do I love you,
With all of my heart?

if i could
i'd spend the world
with you.
i would
if you wanted
to—
but they say
that's a pretty **** big
part of my plan—
your yes or
your no—
and i haven't yet
figured it all
out yet
if you
say
no

You called yourself a philosopher—but
The only depth you cared about
was intravenous.



*The boy who loved God too much,
he tried to find Him

in his head.

with fingers of sin i had touched your core, unzipped your jeans like locked church doors and swore i would marry you one day.
they say i shouldn't love you anymore, that poems are only for those you adore—but when you left i was naked on the floor, sold my soul to the convenience store, and
to forget a ****** i kissed a *****
kissed my lips and cried no more

we are both blind and sometimes we forget that
there is nothing written between the lines

You said your favorite weekend was *** and coke
I should have known then, what you meant
when you said you also only drank
hard bar straight