Even the skies are crying for you today,
Beloved soldier.

There's a bruise on my collarbone.
I waved it off as, um,

I'm clumsy?

But if I am I guess I just walked straight into your kiss.

My dress is clinging to the scent of your aftershave
And my cigarette,

But they're both secrets

So I've locked them away in the back of my mind, to keep them fresh.

And I've hidden the dress at the back of the wardrobe, just in case I forget.

They say that you can count the things you really care about in your life on one hand

I guess every time you lose something you care about, you have to put a finger down

When everything is gone you're just left staring at a fist

Maybe that's why people are so mad at the world

This is a love poem.
This is a poem for the girl I haven't met yet,
with the long brown hair
and the eyes that always look down.

This is a poem for the girl who thinks this is about her,
and this is a poem for the girl who thinks this is about her.

And it is about you.
It's about your eyes,
and how they don't blink sixty times a minute and
I'm jealous of that,
because you don't have to deal with time passing by as quickly as I do.
And sure, you have a kaleidoscope heart, but
you also have a honeysuckle smile.
And sure, a lot of the time, you see the bad -
but that doesn't mean you can't see the good, either.

I want you to twist my skin between your hands, like an Indian rug burn,
and change me,
because we both know that it isn't as hard as we pretend it to be.
Always look forward,
and adjust me with your fingertips until I'm whatever color you want me to be,
because I'll change for you.

we can't speak now without arguing
because we are both too stubborn,
too self-righteous,
and too smart to back down from each other.
together we are a trainwreck.
we don't work,
we are polar and dangerous.
we **** each other off
and it isn't even malicious.
it's just our wiring, our too-similar similarities
and our too-wide differences.
it hurts
and it's certainly worse than the alternative.