..searching...

Somewhere in the midst of all my frantic fantasies I can almost feel someone reaching back towards me.
Sometime past midnight I hear the cries.
I'm searching for a hero.
He has to be sure.
He has to be strong.
Where have all the good guys gone?
Towards the fight.
I'm desperately holding onto something that isn't even there. That isn't even real.
I'm holding out for a hero.
Where'd all your fight go, my dear?
Lost somewhere surrounded by all those "forgot you's," and "maybe tomorrows"
I remember when men wanted to fix things. Or find out if there's something wrong.
I've run out of time to give.
We'll never find out if the metal was even bent or not.
Bueno suerte con tu vida.
Adios muchachos.

I Never Knew You Could Become Homesick For People Too

Half dollar bill- I miss the way we would jam to Ellie Goulding remixes. Thank you for showing me innocence.
My Person- I miss the way we would pretend to have dancing battles. I miss my Bachelor partner. Thank you for all of those back scratches. Thank you for being my person.
Best Friend's Man- I miss you starting a wiping fight with me, then crying when I won. Thank you for making my person so happy.
Cap'- I miss your stupid lectures about every single marvel movie made. Thank you for never taking advantage of me when you had several opportunities.

I have become homesick for so many faces. Because I remember that no one would ever take advantage of me like he did.
I open my eyes to more horror remembering that it was real and I squint my eyes hoping to shove the image out.
I hold my chest as if my heart is about to collapse from the inside out.
I wish it wasn't real.
I wish it didn't happen.
I am so sick.
Hearing his words: "Then I guess I'll have to make you love me."
minute after wretched minute.
I am so homesick for these faces.

Something about Somethings.

We are surrounded by people who are obsessed with being seen as perfection.
We watch as others share their lives so detailed that it seems like they are trying to prove something to us.
We stand there as silicone dolls dance across the screen only to collapse back stage.
We are different kind of people, Him and I.
Different from the puppets that surround us.
And there is something I'm thinking.
Something I'm feeling.
Something about the fact that I'm happier when I come home than I was before I was with him.
Something about him that makes me want to start loving strawberries.
Something about the way that front seat makes me feel "at home."
Something I can't quite put my finger on.
But something I'm thrilled to figure out.
Something about looking forward to this potentially amazing journey.