Writing's worse,
Music doesn't work,
Talking to you helped,

I guess I didn't want to hear,


What I knew you'd say



Eventually

i don’t write about you
as often as i used to.
i feel sorry about that.
you still make everything
feel like a love story.
even when my hands shake,
even when the days are heavy,
you hold me like the ending
could still be happy.

i love you in quieter ways now,
in glances, in waiting,
in letting myself stay.
and that matters more
than any poem ever could.
but still, i’ll try to write you one
anyway.

An unfamiliar feeling
Almost like bubbles in my stomach
Fireworks in my brain

Laughter comes easily
Jokes slide off my tongue
Drunk on the feeling

Summer days
Long car rides
Music blasting
Bringing the strange feeling
Filling the air I breathe

Confidence
Love
The purest joy
Feeling as high as the stars in the sky

Better than a cigarette
Or any drug
The bursting
Euphoric feeling
Of true happiness

Obsession gripping
Compulsion dominating
Total confusion

Love is the essence of our very being.
Not the outer form.
But the inner call.
Love is kind.
Love is patient.
Love is slow to anger.
And love does not boast.
It flows like a river, bringing healing to the lost and the lonely.

Touching people.
Mending hearts.
Reaching out.
Giving hope.