you are not as strong as you once were.
your defenses are weakening, and the troops are retreating.
but you stay planted.
you will not move until this war has been won.

you ache with hunger.
your body caves as all missionaries desert and you find yourself the only one armed.
but you stay planted.
you will not move until this war has been won.

you cry at night.
your mind has gone crazy and the journalists have taken your heroic story from the headlines.
but you stay planted.
you will not move until this war has been won.

you will not move until I love my self.

You're my drug.
I know you're the worst thing for me but you taste so good.
Your hair feels great between my fingers and the way your lips pull on mine makes me want to paint galaxies with my mind.
Your hands are heavy and rough but feel amazing against my skin.
Your skin is probably the best part.
It's not rough or callused, it's smooth.
It's innocent.
I know eventually that you'll **** me, the innocence in my soul, but I'm just so addicted.
You're poison and I can't stop drinking.

love something out of the ordinary*, they say.

well, I did.

I loved you with your sticker covered trombone case, when I was the one that needed to be covered.

I loved you with your bracelets, when I was the one with scars to be hidden.

I loved you with your compassionate attitude and your body that could've passed for a star athlete (although, I suppose you are.)

I loved you.

i am guilty of looking at your lips in the middle of class.
wondering who else has looked at them.
wondering if they've wanted to kiss them.
if they've wanted to be yours.
i wanna be yours.
i am addicted to 8:35 on weeknights sneaking away during act 2.
i am addicted to choco-coffee from the best **** barista in town.
i am addicted to phone tag and craisins.
i am addicted to your lips.

normal girls call you up at midnight needing *** but i, i just need you.
i don't need ***.
that is beyond me.
i am too fat, too ugly, too unmarried for ***.
and you have a purity ring etched in your heart.
i just need you.

fingers- i landed my boat here, when i first met you. your fingers twirled together absentmindedly and they still do and i'm still get lost whenever i wander onto the dark beaches.
hands- i discovered these peninsulas when you pulled me along on your adventures after I landed on the beaches and they were so rough yet so wonderful and i honestly want to get lost here more often.
wrists- i found these a bit more on the mainland, still flanked by water and they were so narrow that i was afraid i would fall off into the water and i wonder how those thick colorful bracelets stay on.
cheeks- one day i wanted to go on a hike so i decided to climb up these steep mountains and whenever something beautiful sailed by you these beautiful red begonias popped up and i'm a little upset that i didn't make them pop up but i'm glad they didn't bloom around me because i got to see the natural red hills and i got to love them.

but i made a mistake because i never went south and maybe i would have gotten lost somewhere else more beautiful but if i went south, i wouldn't have found the beautiful pools that some call your eyes and that would've been the real loss.

he is a lover of brokenness.
he likes antiques,
collecting little fragments of things.
he hates breaking them,
so he finds brokenness,
fixes it up a little,
takes a few pieces and leaves.
he's already taken a bit of me,
and unless I shatter again,
he'll leave forever.

if I was skinny,
could I please hold your hand?