writing poems about you
that i’ll never let you read
making playlists for you
with songs that say what i mean
and never letting you listen
gifting you green tea
when i want to give you roses
lying on a soft patch of grass
and seeing your curves in the trees
clutching the clasp of my necklace
wishing that you’re thinking of me
daydreaming about your laughter
when my joke wasn’t even funny
loving you from the lighthouse
watching my heart sail out to the sea
you said one day we would marry and as a grown child, i believed you slipped thorns into my mouth i tried to thank you for the roses but blood came pouring out where are you now? where is my heart? i'
it’s a weird place to be, stuck right in between i’m still in love with you, and i deserve more than you gave me when both are, at once, true i liked you much more before i loved you i liked you bette
you made me feel like you loved me even when you don’t. it was just enough for me, ignoring reality for a dream. though the wool was thin, it sat snug against my eyes, nonetheless. i could sculpt it i