twenty fifteen

I could look at you all day and not get bored. 

Your eyes, rivers waiting for me to plunge into. 

Your lips, caves made for exploring. 

Your skin, a city made for discovering. 

Your hair, a rainforest, made for searching. 

Your body: a world for me to travel. 

I’m wanderlust for you.

-wanderlust

I would say I love you 

But I can’t

I would say I hate you 

But I can’t

That’s the difficulty; 

I’ve not felt something in so long I don’t know how to feel anymore 

-feelings

I have a notebook full of poems and every letter is about you 

-bedtime scribbles 

When no words come to mind, you do.

-three months 

And, for the first time in a long time, I smile. 

I really smile. 

One of those smiles that’s not just polite, or pretence. 

No. 

I smile from my heart 

and I know that in this moment I am happy. Even if it’s only for a second

it’s a relief 

to know that despite months of no 

emotions 

I felt again. 

I felt again. 

You made me feel again.

-late night thoughts 

His stem, towering.
I could see it.
The rotting,
bitter core.
The hard centre.
But I longed to see his petals one again, feel them brush my skin.
Fill me.
I could see him.
But his eyes could not meet mine.
My can was dry.
He could see the sun and it was more radiant than I.

-three minute poems 

These days my mind is moving faster than I am. Over thinking. Over thinking. Jumping from one thing to another, but somehow I always end up at you.

-bedtime 

I watch you.
Slowly you get worse and
what am I?
Helpless. I am useless.
With my hands I cannot fix you. With my knowledge I cannot heal you. But with my words I can write for you.
So what I do is write. I write everything I feel. From nothing to everything.
I try. Oh I try.
It pains me to see you like this. My heart aches at the sight of you. Because never have I felt a love so strong for someone. And you cannot return it.
You are unable.
But your heart is why you are here. For if you heart not so filled, He would have no place for you.
Because for every morning you wake so do I. For every day you live so do I.
I cannot be without you.
So when the day comes, the day when you leave I hope I have written enough.
For I live to please you, the way you please me.

-fix you

And when no words come to mind, you do.

—	three months

There’s nothing special about you. 

But then again, there’s nothing special about me either. 

Maybe what makes us so special is, 

That together we are quite so quintessentially ordinary.

-find comfort in the ordinary