I'm writing with unsteady hands
Walking on frozen feet.
Rebellious phase. Changing myself.
Always with the realizations at 1:30 in the morning.
And when I write about waking up to your face it's because I can see it.
Just as it is like a lucid dream.
I smell coffee all over every fantastic moment of existence
Because I'm fairly certain my existence started with you.
You don't know how often I cry, or how loudly I think.
Or that I'm not really a writer. Just a distracted
Addict
To putting myself in characters.
Remembering what my life was, and what it has become.
I don't write I create.
I don't write I remember.
I don't write I dream.
And it's not about me, it's not about you,
It's about everything I've ever wanted it to be but
Was
Am
Too afraid to do
Be.
Become.
Idealism is everything I wasn't but am choosing to aspire to.
With my hair with my eyes with my ears.
I want you to see me the way I see me.
But that's unreliable.

I was born on February twenty-third
I was told by my mother that I'm a Pisces
I weigh one hundred twenty-five pounds
I'm five foot eight
And a half.

I have watches and sweaters and things to keep me warm and know when to be home to call my grandmother
I have blankets to tell me nice things
and curtains to keep the branches of my neighbors from entering my room but they don't mind.
They hate the feeling of glass
Even with the Sun piercing their every pane and the Moon blaming them for not being as bright.
The trees whistle through my curtains anyway but I don't mind, I'm a good neighbor
They think I'm a good neighbor.
I block them out to hold tight the thoughts of them just being there.

I have shelves to hold my things the things I hope to last forever but the very same things that will only last a moment.
I try to take care to my alarm clock by not pressing the snooze button
It stiffens my blankets and pushes the branches from my curtains

I'm still learning how to whisper even though...
Even though I don't want anyone to hear me breathe.
I'm afraid of spiders
I'm afraid of the branches waking me up from my 2am turnings
I'm afraid of my caffeine-run smile.
But you make me mesmerize into your eyes and I realize I'm not afraid of waking up or the threads of my sweaters unravelling or my blankets insulting me I'm afraid of what my eyes will do when I wake up and when all I have are threads and my blankets are no longer trying to keep my fingers and toes warm
You remind me of how I'm afraid of not being able to hold my sweater threads
You remind me I'm afraid of how my blankets aren't even able to keep themselves warm.

What will my curtains do without any branches to hold there
What will my blankets ever warm up
They'll be begging for me to light candles but I'll be struggling to find any matches
My battery set of eyes will make me hit the snooze button and the dust will gather on the tip of my finger so I have to wipe it on my blankets.

Hi.
My name is Paul.
I enjoy books and stars and eggs.
I have shaky knees for a girl who likes folded blankets and boxes of things from a shelf
My hobbies include pressing the snooze button lighting matches with no intent and skipping over the terms and conditions.
I stand behind my curtains to hide from my metaphors
And my mother never told me to find an Aquarius to swim in.
I don't have any fins but I do have hands which have fingers who haven't been warmed up in a long time but I know that I can muster enough strength to hold onto your hand just to walk around the block to buy a carton of eggs.
My hands aren't really able to do anything else
except pressing the snooze button and lighting a match for a few seconds of warmth
for only a few fingers
but those are just enough to open my curtains
and fold my blankets.
Those are just enough to press play on our nights away from the sound of a distant wind.
The sound our hearts can make are louder than any whisper I cannot produce
or any crack of an eggshell
or any trinket falling off the shelf and onto our pillow.

We stood in the shower
As I gave you a vow
And as you let me take all the water
You repeated

*I promise
To be faithful and loving
Untill it's empty

Hollow.
like veins that no longer support blood flow.
my mind is the canvas in which I destroy spirit.
I'm no longer harboring what it feels like to be alone.

The feeling is like bones breaking,
under the weight of the guilt that pins you down.
eyes lifeless like stone statues.
there is no creativity left in this vessel
only wrists that itch and fingers that shake
at the thought of being any where near the state
in which I am anything other than truthful
and that is happy.

Its overrated really.
Fake.
Processed and practiced.
Scripted.
Happiness is the mere idea
that the world is anything more than
what it will never be capable of.
Like me.

I'm just proving to the world
that backs don't break with the weight
of insanity on your shoulders.

I never had anything to give,
and now I no longer have the strength
to take back what was originally mine.
My self worth was stolen by your vicious words
and how I saw through the stare you held.
It said sadness..
but I know it was only masking hatred.

You think you're hiding
behind your own problems.
the fact that you had dreams no longer
stops me from believing that
you led yourself to your own downfall.
It was never my fault
that you couldn't make yourself
into who you wished to be.
Who you still wish you were.
No. My small body had nothing to do
with your inner demise.
You'd just like to believe that
to mask the truth of it.

You'd given up long before I was even thought of

At 11:43 pm, you are strong and confident.
(Now its 2:00 am, and you're screaming into your pillow.)
You smirk at fools and tell me everything i don't know.
(Now you're trembling more and more, the bed is shaking.)
You tell me to think logically and i will be fine.
(I can't see your smile, please, tell me what to do?)
I listen intently and hold on to your every word.  

Its 9:15 am, and you are smiling.
(Now its 1:56 am, and you scream in my arms.)
You tell me that you love me,and thank me.
(Now you're kissing my neck softly.)
I ask what I've done, and your eyes soften.
(I can't see your face, but i can feel you smile on my neck.)
I listen as you tell me that no one has ever stayed for you.

Its 8:12 am, and you are so excited, for us.
(Now its 12:35 am, and you are smiling.)
You hug me tightly, and kiss me, its our day, you say.
(Now you're lightly petting my hair, telling me about your past.)
I ask how someone could ever hurt someone as wonderful as you.
(I can't see your face, but i feel your blush in my soul.)
I listen to you as you recite your vows to me, and i say mine.

today
it s
     u
        n
           k in
           that you really said
                                              i love you
                                               and that you really expected me to
                                               say it back.
                                               excuse my
                                               lapse in judgement
                                                                                    and lack of punctuality
                                                                                    but i love you, too.
                                                                                    please don't wreck me

Who deems a life a tragedy,
God or The Poet.