setting sun. lake view.

The funny thing about our conversations, you know, is I’m always telling you what all things you shouldn’t be giving a fuck about, and you are always telling me what all things I should care a little more about.

long walk. windy moors.

I wish you could see yourself from my eyes. Like see this little thing here on your cheek, there’s so much beauty here. But i know you’d just look in the mirror and say you want to get it removed. 

crowded cafe. a conflict.

well, let me tell you in as many words that your perfectionist standards are cruel, and cruelest when you unleash them on yourself. You need to understand, lady, it's perfect to be imperfect.

evening light. irish cappuccino.

Say something. Your silence kills me inside. I wish I could go inside that mysterious mind of yours and read everything. And, tell you all your fears are baseless. 

how'd you know!

it's so much fun, see!

and a bit funny too

to safely hide you

not in my heart,

but in every word,

i have ever written.

i hope you know

I hope you know,

that killing us two

has killed me too. 

letting love in.

and, then, my sword,

hackneyed, time-worn

i kept somewhere

in hiding.

pulling his chest,
in soft, diffused light,
an inch closer to mine;

i conspired to cage 
his unchained soul,

his poetic, drugged mind.
only to kiss his voice,

sugary sweet, sublime.

then, walked slowly,
a few hundred miles,
in unknown terrains,
beneath endless skies, 
secretly humming,

a few musical lies,

he carelessly, 

wrote about me.