withlove-r

[withlove-r]

dear Little Darling,

speak out loud

don’t let them silence you,

like i used to allow

i have been talked over,

shutten up, and ignored

told over and over again,

that my stories tend to bore

but hey Little Darling,

what i have learned:

when they try to silence you,

that is your cue to be heard

the world will want to keep you quiet,

as it has done to me

but you must speak you mind,

and do it confidently

hey Little Darling,

i have vowed,

to start my journey

together, we will be loud

i will speak my mind

i will be heard

i will no longer be silenced

i will spread my word

i was once a Little Darling,

timid and quiet like you

but i want to find my voice;

an independent life i pursue

-r

[withlove-r]

you claim that you don’t snore in your sleep. that makes me giggle, because how would you know? how would you know what is going on while your mind is in a different place? while you’re experiencing magic and robberies and sex and apocalypses, i’m experiencing you. how would you know that your breathing gets slow and deep, and your chest rises like an evenly timed tide. how would you know that your finger tips start to twitch as if you were playing a beautiful piece on the piano just for me? how would you know that your mouth droops open wide and i can feel your breath in my hair? it reminds me of an approaching thunderstorm: the feeling of a still breeze and the low sound of gentle rumbles.

i don’t tell you that you snore in your sleep. i’m sure that wouldn’t make you giggle, because how would you know? how would you know that i purposely wait until your mind is in a different place? while you’re experiencing magic and robberies and sex and apocalypses, i’m experiencing peace. how would you know that your deep breaths calm me after a difficult day? how would you know that the beautiful piano piece soothes me more than any music ever could? how would you know that a messy drooping mouth could look so damn good on you? your slight quiet snores make me feel safe, as i fall asleep to the rhythm of your soft roars.

i could spend the rest of my nights with you as you snore in your sleep.

-r

[withlove-r]

it has been months since i let my thoughts spill like wine from the cup i knocked over on the night of shattered glass. my handwriting used to be the messiest thing in my life until you left, leaving my mind more cluttered than the beautiful words i used to write. i used to write poetry to the twitch of your fingers and sonnets to the sound of your light snores, letting the pen glide seemlessly to recount our memories when i couldn’t sleep. you were my muse. but my scarlet red pen that created fairytales was replaced with a black pen that could only manage scribbles.

it has been months since i have grasped your favorite color between my fingertips and oh, how i’ve missed the way the ink seeps into the paper the same way i melt into your chest. how i’ve missed feeling your arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me in like you need me to live. how i’ve missed the laughs, the bickering, the naps, the goofy remarks, and oh how i’ve missed the passion.

it has been months, but i am writing again.

it has been months, but my muse is back.

-r

[withlove-r]

i don’t want to love you anymore. i don’t want to reach for your attention, just to have it slip from my fingers. i don’t want my phone to get down on both knees and beg me, with a quivering voice, to please just call you. i don’t want to feel the energy surge through my fingertips and up my arm and electricicute my heart every time i lightly rest my hand right in the middle of your back in a crowded room. i don’t want you to be the source of my happiness, having my emotions play off of you like you are the pupetmaster to their twisted show. i don’t want to be pulled in by you, the same way the moon is constantly tugging at the waves as it’s reflection dances across them. i don’t want to have the universe cave in on me when you leave at the end of the summer, having the foundation to my life shatter and everything falling to crush my bones. i don’t want to crave your reassurance in ways that an addict craves his next fix, just to be disappointed at your lack of effort once again. i don’t want to have these intense, immortal, irrevocable feelings towards some who is incapable of feeling the same way in return. i don’t want to love you anymore...

but i do.

-r

[withlove-r]

as we sleep together in the same bed, i can’t help but to miss you. as our backs are pressed up against each other’s i feel so far away. so lonely. there was a point in time when i would have given anything for you to touch me — my hand or my shoulder or my back, anything. but now it’s so different. i lay awake as you softly snore next to me, when i once slept safely inside you’re arms. i feel alone as you dream about beautiful things, when i once had beautiful dreams about you.

-r

[withlove-r]

i always find myself thinking of you as soon as i get the chance to let my mind trail off. i think of you and your goofy laugh and beautifully masculine profile and your messy mop of hair and your eyes. your eyes get me. every time i picture your brown, almond shaped eyes —that are so dark i can almost see my reflection in — my mind wanders to her.

she has looked into your eyes before, and your eyes have looked at her. what did they see? a beautiful and mature young lady? a rebellious and pretty teen? a girl who grew so attached to you that she continues to make her presence known, even after your eyes have been looking at someone else for months. looking at me for months. your eyes have traced my face and outlined my body. your eyes have tiptoed around the most delicate places and has memorized parts of me that no one else has. but even after your eyes have seen all of me, she still has eyes for you.

i know what her eyes have seen. her eyes have scanned the most exquisite human being she and i have ever met. her eyes have focused on your soft lips and curly hair and randomly placed freckles. her eyes have taken in the sight of your warm tan skin and the scars that lay upon it. her eyes had the privilege to study you. to get to know your body. it’s no wonder her eyes long to see you. i know mine will forever do the same.

but my eyes have never really seen her. i wonder what will happen the first time our eyes meet — if they ever do. i wonder if they even would meet, or if her eyes would be locked on you. what would happen if my eyes got to see not just her, but you too. my eyes will see you together and my heart will ache. i wonder what will happen to my mind, along with my heart. if the simple sight will send me spinning. a deadly spiral that will leave me in shambles. and the shambles will inevitably effect my eyes, to tie it all together. swollen and watery and red, my eyes will be. i wonder if your eyes will be able to detect the pain in mine. and i wonder if her eyes will ever see the damage she is causing.

you need to give her a blindfold.

-r

[withlove-r]

i chose to write this in red because i know it is your favorite color. scarlet, actually. scarlet red and torqouise blue. do you think she remembers that? do you think she noticed the way your noise scrunches when you give that what-the-fuck look? or the way you cover your mouth when you laugh really hard because your mom made you insecure about your teeth and gums? does she remember the freckle on the right side of your nose, or the faint bumps on your wrist and sides that have been there for as long as you can remember? did she know about your dad’s anger issues? how about the fact that your mom doesn’t think you will make a good husband or father? that one honestly cracks me up, because out of every boy i have ever met, you would be the best. by far. you are an incredibly complex combination of human genes and stardust. there are constellations upon your skin. do you think she remembers their patterns? because i, for one, know that i could never forget them. the scar on your right bicep is the foundation of the big dipper. the freckle — or birthmark, as you would argue — at the base of your neck, just above your right shoulder, is the center of orion‘s belt. i would say that i know your body like the back of my hand, but i know the back of your hands better than my own.

do you think she remembers the patters on your palms like i do?

-r

[withlove-r]

if you don’t believe that love is the strongest emotion

then you’ve never been in love

-r

[withlove-r]

i know that you put your socks on before your pants, normally. i know that you believe people up here treat everyone terribly. i know that you hate getting haircuts because the razor bothers your sensitive ears. i know that having a child with a disability is one of your fears. i know you only half smile because you think your teeth could be better. i know that fire is mesmerizing to you, and you could stare at the lights of a ferris wheel forever. i know that you always replace the toilet paper backwards facing. i know you press your lips together when you are thinking. i know you hate coughing more than ever and i know just were to kiss you to make you surrender. i know that you crave the warmth of another’s bare skin. i know that it scares you how angry you can get sometimes; your temper runs thin. i know that you think hot dogs with cheese are disgusting. i know that you think your hands look nice, but i think everything about you is stunning. i know the night sky calls to you, and the wind pulls you in. i know you rarely ever bruise, but i can trace every scar upon your skin. i know your favorite colors are scarlet red and turquoise blue.

and i know that i am in love with you.

-r

[withlove-r]

it scares me

how irrevocable my love for you is

[withlove-r]

you were all wrapped up in my bed — giggling and laying as close to me as possible — when you looked at me. i stopped when your eyes met mine. your mouth formed in a way i had never seen before, and you said it. then i woke up.

we were in hysterics sitting on my couch, laughing at every little thing. i was thinking about how happy you made me and we locked eyes. your lips shaped somewhat familiar yet foreign words. you said it. then i woke up.

why we were sprawled out on your kitchen floor? i couldn’t tell you. but i do know how goofy we were being, playfully touching like that. then you focused on my eyes and i took in the sight of your mouth moving in such a pretty pattern. you said it and then i woke up.

you were holding me tightly as i shivered with pain; today shattered my mind made of glass. i know you saw my red nose and tear stained checks but you looked at me like i was beautiful. you said it. “i think i love you too” dripped from my lips. then you pulled me closer until i fell asleep.

-r

[withlove-r]

maybe it’s the way your fingertips tiptoe around my thighs. it could be your grip on my hips, or the way your lips play games with my neck. the feeling of your weight between my hips might be it, or perhaps it’s the way your face shapes in lust. i couldn’t tell you exactly what it is, but i do know this:

i love sinning with you.

-r

[withlove-r]

i could get drunk off of your messy hair and soft cheeks. your dark eyes and full lips leave me feeling woozy. you are funny and romantic and fun-loving and a little broken. your mind has never failed to amaze me. you are attractive in ways i cannot describe; your soul reaches out to mine and pulls me in closer and closer and closer.

you are everything.

everyone can see that we have something special. we have a connection — the kind your favorite books are about. we touch and bicker and laugh and yell and kiss like there is no tomorrow. i crave your passionate love.

we are everything.

-r

[withlove-r]

one minute i am wearing your sweatshirt which hangs off my shoulders and reaches down to my mid thigh. i bounce over to you and stand on my tippy toes, wrapping both arms around your neck and pressing my head into your shoulder as you pick me up by the waist and spin me around. i am giggling and you are grinning.

then the next moment i am wearing absolutely. nothing. i pull myself closer to you and straddle your waist, running my hands through your hair and feeling my skin against yours as you grip my hips and guide them back and fourth. i am breathing heavily and you are sweating.

we can do both — innocent and devious — so well.

-r

[withlove-r]

i am locked inside a box, with just enough space to stand. it is dark inside and the walls are shaking. i am shaking. i grab the roots of my hair and my mouth becomes square as i scream. there is a single window in the box’s walls, and if i look out

i can watch you watching her

-r

[withlove-r]

he asked me why i liked the stars and i replied

“let me paint a scene

for if i didn’t, you would find my mind a bit obscene

you feel a little lost, hopeless and denied

so you decide to go outside and look up at the sky

you lay a blanket in the grass and rest your broken body

and for the first time in a while you don’t feel alone, even though you’re with nobody

relief escapes your soul in the form of a sigh

your muscles start to melt and you close your eyes

when you inhale again, stardust fills your lungs

you let out your breath, and the process has begun

now look up at the stars, and you can’t help but to feel small

all of your problems aren’t relevant at all

it had been too long since you have seen things this clearly

but your mind is now rid of all pain and weary

the night sky — in all of its glory

will unremittingly have this effect on those with a painful story”

he replied with words so beautiful, you’d think they’d have a tune

“if that’s what the stars do for you, then i want to be your moon”

-r

[withlove-r]

when this is over — for i know eventually it will be. we are young and lustful and we can’t possibly last a lifetime — i am not going to be okay. just the thought of you leaving sends me spiraling, losing my breath along with many tears. when this is over, i will not be the person i am now. you have shaped me in these five short months, putting me through heartbreak and though heaven. i don’t know who i am without you anymore. when this is over, my kitchen will look different. the alcohol won’t be hidden away in the cabinet above the microwave. the sink will be stained of blood and memories. the picture of us might still hang on the fridge, but it will never look the same. when this is over and time has passed, i hope the thought of us floods your mind after years of my sorrow. and you will know what it was like

to lose someone you love.

-r