i love it when you talk to me
poet to poet,
writer to writer.

i found an angel in hell
are you lost?
we are definitely lost

we dont belong here
i go here,
but am not actually

i noticed you arent too
we can run away if you want
to the seas, far from this land

we dont belong here
i know so
i watch you fade into your own world everyday

When I try to sleep it off,
it makes me wonder more
Can I stop now?
Yes, but I don't want to.

When I do sleep it off,
the dreams intrigue me more
Does this mean anything?
No, it just so happens that I think of you more often now.

When I say I don't need it to mean something
I need it to stay like this
Nothing more, nothing less
We'll get there.

When I say I want it to mean something
I want it to be like this
More than this
We'll get there.

Unlike the stories I have heard,
I hope this will never end.

the thing is you dont have to tell me
we're going to be forever
you dont have to tell me
we'll always be together

you dont have to tell me youre staying
you dont have to tell me what youre feeling
you dont have to shout your love
you dont have to do anything

'cause baby when our enigmatic silence floats
thats the time when i think of you
and how much of your presence
is actually there

i want to go back
to when i could come up to you,
sing you an old song
and nobody would look at us

i want to go back
to when i could sit so close to you,
tell you an old story
and nobody would look at us

i want to go back
to when i could cover your eyes,
make you say my name
and nobody would look at us

i want to go back
to when i gave you poems,
read you my entries
and nobody would look at us

i want to go back
to those random moments
when you wrapped your arms around me
without malice, with no second thoughts

and nobody,
not even you,
would look at us

i want to go back
to when i sang you that old song,
remember what you said?
"if only you were a boy"

and i guess thats when everything changed. you didn't care if i wasn't a boy.

Against all odds, remember?*
from then on, you started talking like all of them.

there is something about that moment-
when i first called you for the sake of endearment,
when i met your eyes while i was in front of the whole class -
they were transparent, like looking at a glass

and it was open for me,
whole, not shattered; ignited
it was attracting me to see
it was screaming something that needs to be said

there is something about those butterflies-
you see, i had a first love: poetic love,
but never this romantic;
like everything is real and without lies

but in our skies,
we meet but can never collide.
in our skies, my dear,
you are there and i am here.