the romantic

i wish i didn’t see poetry in the freckled constellations scattered across your face

i wish the flooding of metaphors and similes would at least slow their pace 

i wish i didn’t see how the leaves dance when wind runs through them like a melody

i wish love and sorrow weren’t the muses i chose and need to keep me company 

i wish eyes were not windows to the soul 

but just skin and bone 

and organs i learned in science class 

i wish rainbows and rain 

and stormier days

were only the weather forecast

i want to face the cold hard facts but the world is a connect-the-dots on a kids menu and i am just a stupid, naive, little child in a world that’s too big for me to reach the top shelf

by myself

because i’m the type that grew up straining my eyes, draining batteries for my reading light 

the type that loves to dream but hates going to sleep at 7:30pm bedtimes 

but i’m tired now and it’s only 7 o’clock

“maybe it will stop,” she says,

"sometimes it just 

stops"

will i be better then? 

when i shed my permanent rose tint like a dead skin 

when i lose my ability to find beauty where there is none and never was 

when i wake up from my dream-state

when i attach weights to my shoes and come down from the clouds

back to the ground which is only dirt and rocks and nothing more

where life is not this or that but merely what it is 

and nothing more

the death of the romantic will not be beautiful 

it will be that and nothing more 

loving you was easier than loving myself but with you, they went hand in hand

if I could see myself through your liquid gold eyes maybe I’d be something good

and I’d embody the image of perfection you’ve never doubted that I could 

for perfection is only limited by the made-up idea of flaws

which of mine you’ve turned from things to hide to parts of me that fill you with awe 

you’re like a filter over my vision that makes the world seem much less bleak 

like I can take on all the harder things and no longer feel so weak 

it's like I can look at all the little things, beauty that makes this life worthwhile 

the same way that you find your world in my hair, my thoughts, my smile 

and all my quirks, quizzical looks, and the way I tend to pout

or always have random questions to ask for you to help me figure out 

and you feed my curiosity by loving my non-stop train of thought

although its passenger is mainly you 'cause you’re on my mind a lot 

living so much in my daydreams it’s crazy that you’re my reality 

and one day I can be back in place with your arms wrapped around me

where I’m unbelievably comfortable like you’re a safe haven from everything 

and you always ask me what I’d want if I could ask for anything 

but the truth is that the only answer I could instantly provide

is that I just want you, simply as you are, as long as you’re right by my side

~things i wrote for you back then

everything's shifted 3 centimetres to the left

i feel like a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong spot

because i guess it fits a little doesn't it? just not

quite right 

and i think i might

not even be part of this jigsaw puzzle at all

but then under which category do i fall? 

is it a 3 or 5 hurricane? 

156 miles per hour towards god knows where 

and i'm fucking scared

because how do i stopstopstopstopstopsto

but i'll be okay (right?)

this feeling will go away (it might)

i feel like a snagged thread one pull away from coming unraveled 

and where i've traveled? 

i'm told you could only dream of

and it sure does 

feel like a dream or a daze or a grey haze

or some sort of limbo 

i'm alive though

maybe i'm pandora's box with rusted locks

cause i just feel like all my worries are sealed away in a glass jar except the lid 

is screwed on wrong

and the glass is not strong

enough to contain them 

so it cracks and bends 

until i break

am i even awake? 

because days and nights i'm just asleep

i'd rather be 

i feel like when you just wake up groggy from a nap at 2pm or maybe it's already 6 or 8

months later and

disoriented and not quite sure where or when i am 

and i feel tired and drained down the sink 

i can't really think 

it doesn't feel right and it brings more feelings like

everything's shifted just 3 centimeters to the left 

only slightly off and further away from right and 

so unimpressed 

with myself really, the spotlight's just too bright

and maybe my voice is better off trapped in a sea witch's seashell necklace 

it's so reckless 

to let these kinds of thoughts in but my doors wide open unlocked and the welcome mat won't stop 

greeting insecurities with open arms 

and blaring alarms 

mixed with a million different echoes and screams at once but it's

silent 

deafening quiet 

and this is not my place