He escuchado que las palabras suenan mejor en español.

Dicen que los vocales se escuchan más bonitos que en inglés.

Desafortunadamente, "adiós" tiene tres vocales y todo el mismo dolor.

Kiss me like you're trying to
steal the breath from me

Hug me like you're trying to
mould into me

Touch me like you want to
break me

Take me like you actually
*want me

To say that I don't think of you is a lie.
To think that I don't miss you is blasphemous
And missing you is a sin that I have yet to confess
And I'm not Catholic so I don't know how that works.

But here's my problem:  I don't want to confess if it's not to you.
It becomes meaningless once it reaches the ears of someone else.

They tell me that loving God means that He's the only one.
I can place No-One else above him.

Is it bad to say that He was cast down the second I met you?
I don't think so.
I think He should be understanding of my longing.
Why would He create you if not to present you to me?

I'd like to think that that's the case; you are meant for me.

Sadly I don't think that The Lord and all His mysterious ways work like that.
I don't think He likes your place above him because He is a jealous God.

And now I can't have you.

He has struck us like the Tower of Babel and it's hard for me to understand you.
This is why I must confess, why I must reveal my sins to you, for who can forgive me except for the one who was wronged?

*God won't and I won't either.

You make me sick to my stomach
with dozens of butterflies flapping out you name in morse code.
I want to wrap my hands around your insecurities,
strangling them from the neck down.
I wish to ****** your sadness and bury it six feet under with a shovel.
No eulogy.

Sometimes I can see your fears dying in a tub
where I have placed a hair dryer in the water.
I want to see your worst nightmare standing in a pool of blood
because I have shot it down from your mind.
I can hear you misery gasping for air from a lack of your sufferings reaching its lungs.
I want to see the spine of your burdens crack under the weight of your happiness.

You make me a violent person and that's not healthy I suppose,
but lucky for you,
*I was always a sick child.

For the most part, I think I'm a pretty expressive person.
If I stub my toe on the leg of a table I will curse to high Hell and condemn the person who even invented tables in the first place.
I mean who puts tables in dark rooms?
Use your common sense, people.
Lord knows that I don't have any.

I'm know as a rather blunt person in my group of friends.
I try to be as honest as possible, but that's hard to do when you're such a good liar.
So in order to compensate for this wonderful trait of mine, I hand out "I love you's" like cheap hair ties, except never to the people that really matter.
In the six years that I've known you, I've said "I love you" once.
And it's not that I don't--trust me--that's not the case.
It's that yours was too sincere.

I love you.
You make me nervous and uncomfortable.
I love you.
You make me want to tear my hair out.
I love you.
**** it, I want to **** you sometimes.
I love you.
Those three words will never be enough to fully describe  every adoring, furious, loving, and murderous thought I have about you.
*I love you.

There is a law in physics that says energy cannot be created or destroyed.
The energy just goes on becoming something else and this energy has been here for millions of years-
up to when the dinosaurs roamed the earth and even farther back.
I think the dinosaurs would be disappointed to know that the energy they spent on trying to stay alive is being wasted on me trying to catch your eye.

Now millions of years ago, the dinosaurs weren't thinking about love.
They were concentrated on survival
and in a way
So am I because I honestly don't believe that I'll make it without you.
But with you by my side, honey, we'll rule this earth for years to come.

Forget the ice age and meteors
in fact
the dinosaurs should be scared of us because there can't be a love this strong without some collateral damage, whether it be you, me, or the dinosaurs, but know this:
I love you like the dinosaurs tried to survive;
*desperately.

If I should die -
                           it'll be because I'm no longer needed.
You'll have found your purpose in life
                           and mine will be through.
I don't have a favorite flower
                          so when I die,
I want to be buried with every poem I ever wrote about you.

You won't need them anymore-
                           because after I'm gone-
You'll lose interest.
                            I'll be nothing but a dream-
a long gone memory that you'll remember in the dead of night
and thinking that I'm just a nightmare,
                            I'll be shut in once again-
laid back into the coffin that you nailed shut.

There's no sense in keeping skeletons in your closet.