The star far far away winks at me, flowing tears blur that glow,
love makes us forget even the gaping chasm between us,
night after night, expecting nothing we pledge our love to each other/knowing so well that no dream of  lovers has ever fully come true.

nakedness is not just the absence of clothes.
be naked with your soul.

I'm eighteen years old and I don't understand ***.

I don't understand how people undervalue the thing that is literally one of the most important actions in this life.

You shouldn't bare your body, if you aren't willing to bare your soul. You should be comfortable naked.

And by naked, I mean, you should be okay with telling them all the reasons you hate yourself and let them tell you it's okay. You should be naked with the fact that your family hurt you and you grew up feeling lonely.

Be naked because you grew up with so, so many saddening secrets and now you find it so, so difficult to be naked with your soul.

I am trying to be naked
and I struggle with openness.

There is no point taking your clothes off to only hold the weight of life on your chest.

It breaks my heart to hear stories of friends that haven't grasped this concept. They're too embarrassed to share their secrets and the first time they made 'love' they wore a t-shirt.

don't miss out on the best things in life, get naked.

Lord, just let me sleep
I'm too exhausted to think
And I yearn to dream.

whiskey drips down into the skyline
and my sober eyes close, refusing to resist
another heavy night
and i wake up drunk on too much sleep
again

this is how it’s been lately, maybe
i’m making up for those three weeks of sleep deprivation
but i think there might be something else keeping me
tied to the bed so late every morning
finally standing up, still tired
and the shadows never disappeared
from beneath my eyes

at any rate, sleep is not doing its work
bringing me deeper down into the sheets
as the morning runs its course
and still i don’t feel ready to face the world

the more i sleep, the less alive i feel
now tell me
is this how it’s supposed to be?

i want our love to be like the entrance to our apartment

i want it to grow like the weathered, soften rim of our front door-
worn in but familiar and safe

like the heavily rusted, but loyal hinges;
tight and reassuring 

like the cracked flower *** that desperately clings onto bright specks of sunflowers;
hopeful and determined

like the flickering light bulb in the dark hallway that refuses to give through and die out

I do not walk
with anything but a purpose in my mind,
whether false or confined
to dreams.

I do not sit alone, though it feels
lonely, sure, but I am not
forsaken.

Some days, I only hear one voice
and it haunts the cracks in the ground,
seeping up through the soles of my feet
and forming webs around my heart.

And I like being confined
by these sweet strands from far away
as time keeps pace with my feet
and I remember that purpose:
I will get through this.