What A Strange Feeling

4pm
And I awake from a dream with fog clouding my sight. Turn on my phone and see missed calls from you.
"I love you. Please call me when you wake up."
What a beautiful thing.
Next hour we are cruising down the street. Windows down. Hair flying. Singing along to Zac Brown band. Your hand on my knee.
What a beautiful thing.


Forever in my days here I am the world of these little smiles.
Every morning I walk into a room and almost fall to my knees with all the little arms that embrace me. Almost am tackled by them wanting to show me love.


I come home feeling my heart sink a little lower.
I see faces plastered all over my media addiction.
How lovely would it be to feel loved.
No, not needed; but loved. For words mean nothing without action.


Being real this time, is it too much to ask?

Love is beauty.
Love is innocence.
Love is you and me. Forever.
Love is facing the walls together and blowing them to dust.
Love is forgiving.
Love is selfless.

Hate is beauty.
Hate is crime.
Hate is you and me. Forever.
Hate is introducing a wall and letting me face it alone.
Hate is leaving me alone.
Hate is leaving me alone.
Hate is leaving me alone.

Take them and leave me alone.

how do you know?

Do you even know her?
Maybe not the little things because you never thought to ask. Because you don't just wake up one morning and realize that you would make her a star in you workshop just to say you've been thinking about her embrace.
Do you know that her favorite spot in the entire world is that corner on top of her closet because that's where she would climb find solace in a terrifying home?
Do you know that she pictures being encompassed by a bubble when she feels she's surrounded by demonds?
Do you know that she speaks to her grandmother when she feels that God doesn't want to listen anymore?
Do you know that she sings let it go to her students because they think she has a voice of a rockstar?
Do you know that she only really has two real insecuritites?
Do you know what they are?
How can you love her so much without knowing these imperfect beauties?
Cause I'm starting to forget too.

Ever

Maybe we always feel empty because we put pieces of ourselves in everything and everyone we ever loved.
These bags under my eyes don't go away after a good night's rest because my soul is exhausted.
Sometimes when I cry it only hurts me. And that terrifies me.
If her words with the sound of her voice doesn't calm your worst anxiety attacks, you aren't in love with her.
Tell me things.
Share with me your deepest annoyances.
Bring your little memories back to life.
Call me when I'm half asleep and tell me why you believe in god.
Show me pictures of when you spent that summer at your grandmothers.
Tell me about the first time you saw your dad cry.
Calm my racing veins and silence my screaming thoughts and be my superman.

Nothing

No matter where I go, I'm in the wrong place.
No matter what I say, it's offensive to your ears.
No matter how much I cry, you decide to look away.
What am I supposed to do now?