SourGreenApple

Maybe my memory is faulty, but you wouldn’t mind living by the water. By the sea, river, canal. And having the waves Take your bottle Of sorrows and dreams Away. How I wish I was a shore.

I've hear that Shakespeare wrote 10 feet of poetry And that there are 5280 feet in a mile. These distances are meant to scare us But I know no such fear. The only distance I know is the distance I'll go to see you smile.

The lights claw my ceiling As the car fades away, it's engine causing a fuss It's rusty nuts and bolts squeal in my ears And I can't help but curl in a ball I try to sleep But the lights still scratch my walls So I'll watch them fade Like our conversations.

I think about all the wrong I've done. I think about all the times when you needed me to fabricate something meaningful, When my presence was something that was longed for, When I needed to construct a memory of yours that's been waiting to be tangible. It makes this experience bittersweet. I may have been smiling in this bed for 2 hours, But every once in a while I there's a guilt that pains. And I still smile. You'll never know.

We were always told we could be bigger than what we are. I mean, it's just an arch of her eyebrow. The shape or her eyes. The size of her nose. The broadness of her smile. The fullness of her lips. The punctuation of her dimples. The tone of her skin. Her bodily figure. They're just looks. It's just an alignment of chromosomes. It's just a combination of qualities that pleases our aesthetic senses. It's just a evolutionary mechanism to attract people of the opposite sex, so if they ever doubt the substance of our being, they have an excuse to linger on. So, why care? We were always told we could be bigger than what we are.

I see open pores I see a blackhead on your right nostril I see the bags you carry underneath your eyes I see the yellowing they're shaded with I see that your make up's smudged I see the different tones in your skin; not everything is porcelain Yet you're still perfect How unfair

I don't know why I should sleep Why I should dream When I'll just wake up to reality I rather not indulge in these ideals if they'll never be in reach If I allow my mind to conquer mountains of eye candy and saccharine oceans, the weight of actuality would be on the rise My avarice desires to be something more, I'd stop at nothing to achieve such goals But I trip over the loopholes in the system And recess takes it's toll I become all I never thought.

2 a.m., and I had plenty of time to slumber But you wouldn't let me You wouldn't let me escape you You held me against the sheets, pinned me down to the pillows A sanctuary of my thoughts turned into the imprisonment of my mind I don't struggle You can weave your words around my neck and sign your name with lacerations You can smoother my plea of ordinary discussion You can inflame any silly thought that condensed in my head 'Cause this is the alone time I get to spend with you I'll drowned in these covers and try to shut my eyes But what's the difference if I'm still looking at you? This is more than a haunting This is a transce

You were 19 and fresh as a daisy instantly smitten I rockabyed baby 10 years later I still see you so pure smitten once more I'm in need of your cure… I'll do anything to have you once more.

BABE what you think matters every word you say goes straight to my heart It's the words you don't say I ponder; I wonder what goes on in your head as I look up to you with adoration looking down at the shattered pieces of my life I know you do your best but you aren't a candy store you don't sugar coat it you don't give me everything I want this quells my heartache in a weird way I value honesty and your method may lack poetic spark but it sedates me as it speaks to my heart you're so grounded which is why I trust you and stand on your shoulders now so forgive my chaos my wayward thoughts you're so far above me it

October '88: we met and I thought you were so cool you were wicked awesome- a bad boy I was 15 and you were deliciously older you were out of my league and would never give me the time of day but lo and behold you did and I touched cool for the first time it was '88 and you were stuck in '84 or earlier with your long hair perpetually stoned stare and black rock t-shirts god, you were so cool I laughed like a fangirl at your tales of coming to work high as a kite on an LSD trip and how the bananas took a trip of their own when you aimed for the scale and missed I was awestruck when you told our manager to fuck off

I found Grandma on the street today reborn as a rock. I didn't recognize her at first without her turquoise-rim glasses or her always-falling-out-in-public teeth; she was standing in the gutter on her bald, lopsided head. Mom tells me Grandma's gone to nag God into slaughtering spiders and taking the farts out of vegetables, but if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, you can see Grandma's crooked nose-- the one that she broke playing badminton last year-- and the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she talks about cheating to beat me at checkers. And it's just like Grandma to come back as a rock; Mom's always called her a stubb

i asked her why she didn't write any more than she needed and she said it was too personal too exploitative too painful to line a page with words for me. i asked her why why she stopped painting filming our every moment and she said (whispered, really) she can't her hands too stiff too old too sad to splash color on  page for me. i asked her why she doesn't love me like she used to. and she said she's too tired forever to answer that question for me.

I don't want words or a story I don't want to talk or be heard I don't want context to our concept I want your smile and your eyes on me I want fingers knotted in my hair I want your back pressed up against me My arms wrapping us together like a present The silent intimacy is a gift waiting to be opened For now We'll leave it closed I don't want sounds of pleasure I don't want heated passion I don't want us to work towards an end I want us staring eye to eye at each other I want my fingers to trace your skin I want gentle signs of life coursing through you As it courses through me at the sight of you A quiet reassurance of th