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.

C/O of pain

Because chemistry doesn't matter when you don't have timing.
And I've come to understand that I'm not a body that contains a soul.
                                                                  I am a soul that is in possession of a body.
And never have I dealt with something more difficult than my soul.
I became high off my ambitions. And learned that you were more of a lesson than a blessing.
You represent what want. No where close to who I want.
                                                                 My legs don't work like they use to.
If I never found love like yours again, it'd be a relief.
I've spent a lot of timing searching for love in shallow spaces.
Places I've become unwelcome to.
                                                                 In the darkness, I found light. In myself, I found loveliness.
You are wrong.                             
                                                        And once I stopped chasing wrong things, right things caught me.
Now forget to remember your pathetic pitty party and be my friend.
                                                                 He makes me want to believe. He is all that I see.
I had my ways. They were all in vain.  
You shout it loud.
                                                                But I don't hear a word you say.
It's you who have further to fall.
                                                                Now he takes me in his loving arms.
Let me be.
Let me be.
Let me be.

Everything in Particular.

There's a particular kind of suffering for those who's heart is forced to change at will of the mind.

A particular kind of crying when you awaken screaming because the dream was superior to reality.

A particular kind of embarrassment when everyone knows you're dreaming in color and his name is hidden somewhere in your singing.

A particular kind of sadness when you realize that there are all kinds of love, but you never have the same love twice.

 

Silenced.

I was sitting there in a train next to plenty of strangers, all of us doing the same thing; minding our own thoughts in silence.
I use to go to bed at night and my mind would scream at me with memories or wishes or dreams.
Anytime I was quietly thinking, my ears seemed to ache with the pain of noise from the insight out.
I could barely see anything past the questioning thoughts and yearning images.
Then that one moment while I was sitting on the train, just like that... nothing.
No flash of passion with Jon. No memory of that bang song. No naive camo couple.
Nothing.
For the first time something ached more than the scream of noice.
Silence.

I Miss This.

That morning when I awoke to you.
Ditched school and work.
All day with each other.
Our conversations.
You: "What's untoasted toast?"
Me: "Bread."

Tell Me Darling,

Who stole the light from your soul?
I see the way you hold yourself
so
tightly.

Maybe you're afraid you'll float away.
You forget how love could be a dynamite lit at both ends.
Forget the fireworks of men
who pulled your hips
to prove that you were enough.

Forget thinking that this was supposed to hurt
as you ran head first into every heartache.

You are not a burning building.
And pain is not the only way to feel like you're alive.