I love the way you move
I love the way you walk
There is a certain grace about you
In the air that surrounds you
Even in how you talk

Your smile lights up a room
Your touch makes my heart
Burn with desire

Just being in your presence
Is time well spent
Feeling that my heart is safe
In your hands
Is priceless

You are the source
Of so much inspiration
It's difficult to explain
You make me want to better myself
Because you deserve the best man
That I can be

You "get" me
And I "get" you
I've never felt more
Understood or appreciated
For just being myself

You make me feel thankful
And I don't take that for granted

I love the way you move

I have never really been into poetry,
Nor have I been into theater.
I was never interested in animated films,
Or movies in general
And music was just a hobby for me

Then I met you...

And now it seems as if,
I have found myself remembering you, by just listening to music,
And spending many nights, sleepless and lorn.

I'm patiently waiting for the next blockbuster hit
To appear in cinemas, so that I may ask you
For a single day together, once again.

Now my ambition is to create a cartoon,
Similar to that of Ghibli's, because you had me by a thread,
On that day we watched Spirited together.

I became the stage manager of a production,
Worked hard so I could make you say
That you were proud of me, but more than that was
To simply make you something beautiful.

And now all I can do
Is write poetry,
Every time,
I think of you.

I won't be plucking off petals from my rose
like those lovesick Romeos and Juliets on park benches.
I don't need luck and petal symmetry to believe.

I won't litter the petals
like lipstick marks or blood stains on white sheets.
I won't be placing them in a vase half full,
that's temporary.

I have a better plan in mind,
a better way to immortalize
my rose. Deep within a gift,
pressed between pages
is a symbol of your love to me.

thoughts hang around my head like an itch that won't go away
       and they're *making me scratch my brains out

When I can't feel anything, I watch a sad movie or read the ending of sad books and sometimes I wonder why I do things to make me cry instead of laugh until I waste an hour and a half watching a comedy that isn't even funny to remember  that the easiest feeling to achieve is heartache. And maybe that's twisted but I don't even remember what twisted is because twisted is my normal.

Sometimes happiness takes place of the emptiness but once it's gone it's like stepping on something sharp on carpet and trying to find it. And that may sound odd because stepping on something sharp is painful but so is a happy person with an anxious mind knowing that in only a matter of time that sweet, warm feeling won't be there anymore.

If someone were to knock on my body, it'd be hollow and they would probably imagine it as cold and damp and decide that it's not worth their time. And maybe that's why I'm alone, because everyone is a little afraid of an abandoned house.