But Damn, am I glad it is.

I never thought it would be this.
But damn, am I glad it is.
This precious.
This perfect.
This bright.
This.

I never thought I would feel this way.
I never thought it could be this way.
I never thought I wouldn't understand.
I don't understand.

Maybe I am not good at what I am doing.
Not good at holding your hand.
Not good at standing by you.
Not good at giving a love that is clear to see.
Not good at giving you what you need.

But.
But I can promise you something.
Something that I will put everything into this.
That no matter what, I am going to love you at the end of everyday.
That every kiss has more meaning than last.
That you are the reason I continue.
That you are what I have searched for.
That I wake up everyday with your name on my lips.
That every moment you catch me looking at you is because I found something more to fall into love with.

The way your blue eyes shine.
Your jaw line forms perfectly down your neck.
Your hands hold me.
Your soft lips feel against my old cracked ones.
Your words are tender.
Your actions are soft.
You.

You.

I want to wake up next to you every morning.
I want to run my small hands through your hair.
I want to lay my lips on yours.
To think about the good times to come.
To think about the good times that have passed.
To let go of my bad past.
To wonder what it would be like in the future.
To take a look at all the precious moments we created.
To solve our problems.

I can't help but love the way you hate it when I kiss your neck.
How you wont let go of me when we lay next to each other.
And your laugh.
I can't help but love the way you smile every time I walk into the room.
Or the way you kiss me in the middle of my sentences.
And your slender build.
I can't help but want to kiss you when you say something sweet,
Or when we sit in silence.
To remember every moment.

Then again there are some things you have to remember.
You have to remember that I need affection.
My mentality, to my discovering, functions off of the feeling.
Feeling of being wanted, and touched.
You have to remember when I have attack and say something.
I didn't mean it.
It was something inside me.
A monster I don't know how to control-something that creates a buzz I can't clear away.
You have to remember that the things I hear.
Things I hear mean more then the average person.
Its my crazy mind I am trying not to lose control of.
You have to remember that I get scared.
I get scared you're going to stop.
You're going to realize you can't tame the monster inside of me-even though you want to.
You have to remember that I am head over heels for you.
I've never felt this way about someone.
You're the first-and right now I want this feeling to last.

You.
You are the one I want to tame the monster inside of me.
The one I want to understand my fucked up life.
The one who promises to try.
The one I don't want to stop.
The one I want head over heels for me.
You.

You're the beat I have stuck in my head.
The rain drops on my window.
The words stuck on my tongue.
The questions in my head.

You're the smile on the edge of my lips.
The gleam in my eye.
The late nights,
The laughs.
The missing piece.
The piece I finally found.

It's you boy.

I never thought it would be this.
But damn, I glad it is.

you && rain.

My thoughts are consumed with you.
The 100th floor of an apartment building.
Seattle, Washington.
The rain pouring.
Slowly reaching down the windows.
Your hands in my hair.
You kiss me slowly.
Time moves fast around us.
It's been a year and a half now.

The late nights of watching you play video games.
Your dog curled up next to the bed.
The late nights of watching movies.
The late nights of kisses.
The late nights of cuddling.
The late nights of talking.
The late nights of crying and wiping tears away.
The late nights of my skin against yours.

The way you always walk me to my car after class.
The way you hold my hand and swing our arms.
The way you kiss me after I climb into your car.
The way you pick me up and rest me against a wall.
The way you watch movies with such intention.

I think about things.
I think about our future.
I think about the way you care.
I think about what we both want to do.
I think about how I wouldn't care if we were stuck.
Stuck in a little apartment.
With drafty windows and lopsided floors.
A drippy sink, and 4 flights of stairs.
I think about no matter what, I would be happy with you.

You put my words at a stop and a smile on my face.
You make me feel wanted.
You make me feel loved.
You make me feel important.

The thought of you consumes my mind.
The thought of your hands.
The thought of your blue eyes.
The thought of your soft skin, and sandy blonde hair.
The thought of your big heart, passions and dreams.
The thought of all the times you slowly grab my hand while we are driving.
The thought of all the times I would slowly move away from you in, and you'd pull me in.

A lot of things consume my mind.
But I am happy that it is you.
I am safe around you.
I can cry and be myself.
I can have an attack.
I can love and sleep.
I can scream and eat.
I can be me.
I've never had someone I can do this around.
I've never had someone and now I have you.

You calm me when I am upset.
You care when I am scared.
You feel when I cannot.
You pull me in, instead of pushing me away.

When your lips touch my hardened heart, it slowly begins to open.
When you're around.

My thoughts are consumed with you.
The 100th floor of an apartment building.
Seattle, Washington.
The rain pouring.

It isnt the fact.

It isn't the fact.
It's the fact.
The fact that it's new.
The fact that you.
You are new.
It isn't the fact that I don't trust you.
It isn't the fact that I don't know.
It's the fact that I am scared.
The fact that maybe I don't trust myself.
The fact that my past is filled with a lot of colors.
You know when you look back on a memory and that one specific color is there.
Maybe a red.
Maybe a blue.
Maybe a purple.
Maybe it was a brown.
Or a grey.
Or a black.
You don't know where or why this color is so prominent.
It's just there.
Maybe it was a shirt you were wearing.
Maybe it was the color of the sky that day.
Maybe it was the toenail polish your mama had on that day.
Maybe it was the color of your lens in your sunglasses.
Or Maybe it was that specific black.
The specific black you see when you close your eyes.
I feel like it's different for everyone.
But for me this black was scary.
It wasn't because I couldn't see.
It was because I could hear.
Hear the words.
Hear the sorrow.
Hear the pain.
But this wasn't when I was so young I could still my mom's toes without have yo actually look.
This was the time where I could paint my own toes.
This was the time where I had trouble with life.
The acne.
The puberty.
The growing up.
But most of all it was the words.
The words that came from lips that should be stitched shut.
The words that pinned me to my mattress.
But it wasn't just words.
It was silent tears that shadowed my cheek bones.
It was silent tears that helped me see.
Helped me see that black.
That black that is different.
Different for everyone when they escape.
When they try to escape those nightmares.
Those memories you don't want to look back on but can't help.
It was the click of the door lock.
The lock symbolized so many things.
It symbolized that I was helpless.
It symbolized there was nothing I could do.
It symbolized screams.
It symbolized drunken movements.
It symbolized flashbacks.
It symbolized fear.
But it symbolized protection.
You did it for me.
But it symbolizes trust issues.
Trust issues of others.
Not just all the others.
But others who aren't my mother.
Others who are like this man.
This man you protected me from
This man's son who targeted me.
Targeted me the way he targeted her.
So you're wondering.
Wondering what does this have to do with me.
Wondering why.
Wondering what.
What do I mean.
I mean that words spoken from lips that are sober can be worse than words spoken from drunken ones.
I want you to be happy.
I want you to understand.
Every time my tounge forms this story, I shake inside.
I want to cry but I can't.
I want to scream but they are silent.
I feel alone.
I feel frightened.
Because what if I speak my mind?
If I speak my mind is what happened to her going to happen to me.
Will I be treated the same way.
Will I be listened to the way she wanted to be.
Will I be trusted that way she thought she was by the little hands and little feet.
Will I?
This black holds memories of fear.
But protection.
So when words from you.
Words from you of an offer to others.
Other people.
Others you would spend 6 hours with in a car.
Others you would experience this concert with.
Others other than me.
I get nervous.
I get scared.
But it's all because it's new to me.
Its new because my past makes my future.
Because I feel as if I can trust you.
Because I feel you would understand.
This blackness was full of other women for him.
But she pretended she didn't know.
And this blackness brings back fear.
Fear.
Fear of being the one to threaten.
The one to beat.
The one to take it all.
The one who is t good enough.
Maybe it's because it's new.
Maybe it's because I'm still scared.
But can you do something
Something he wouldn't do for me.
Can you promise me.
Promise me that if I don't go.
And you spend 6 hours with another girl.
Promise me that I won't become the one to threaten.
I won't become the one to beat.
I will still be the one that your tounge chooses to name.
I will still be the one your head chooses to think about.
I will still be the one your heart chooses to love.
I will still be the one.
It isn't the fact.
It's the fact.
The fact that it's new.
The fact that you.
You are new.

It Was Something New.

It was some thing new.
Some thing new, yet so familiar.
You know when you've done some thing.
Expierenced some thing.
Heard it.
Felt it.
Took it in.
A million times before, yet it's different.
Different when something in your life changes.
Maybe it was a drastic change.
Maybe it was a small change and you didn't notice.
That's what it was like with you.

With you, again.
Maybe it's because you were on my mind.
Maybe it's because your name lingered on my lips.
But when I had first lit the candle and without thinking I bent over to smell it.
Not to smell what the candle would smell like when when the wax melted.
But that short moment.
That moment when you can smell the heat.
The heat of the fire.
The heat of the wick.
The moment when it brings you a short euphoria.
An euphoria of bliss.
A euphoria of hunger.
A euphoria of wanderlust.

I've done this since I was a child.
After my mom would light the candles.
Each and every one.
I would love the smell of the heat.
It brought me to my own world.
And now you bring me back.
Back to the world of many things I felt as a child.
The excitement.
The curiosity.
The wonderment.
The confusion.
The feelings.

I haven't experienced anything like this in a long time.
The way your soft lips touch mine.
The way your smile tastes.
The way your hands are rough against my skin.
How your fingers explore the mountains of goose bumps along my spine.
How your breath rushes down my neck.
How your eyelashes feel when the brush against my cheek bone.
How and the way your body picks up my signals.
The way your mouth forms the words you speak to me.
The way your eyes glisten when you get excited.
The way your face speaks your true feelings.
How you talk with your hands without noticing it.
How you express what you feel inside through your body.
How you love your guilty pleasures and secrets.
How you explain.
How you love.

I spent just a short few hours with you.
On two desperate occasions.
One were we didn't know.
One were we did know.
What we didn't know.
What we do know.
We figured it out on two sepereate occasions.
We figured out what we didn't know when we knew.
We figured out what we did know when we didn't know.

You're the way the wick burns.
You're the way the heat smells for a short second.
You're the old memories of my childhood.
You're the way I didt know.
You're the way my body relaxes when I smell the heat
You're the way the heat feels on the tip of my nose.
You're the way my childhood is relived.
But in a completely different way.
I didn't know at the time.
The time I was 5.
The time I was 6.
The time I was 7.
Or maybe even 8.
I didn't know that I would find the man.
The man who lead me back to my childhood.
The childhood of feeling protected behind my mother.
Behind my mother when she lit the candles.
When I ran to smell the heat.
The heat of my future.
The heat of my past.
The heat of my dreams.

Then.
It was something new, yet so familiar.
It was something new.

My 200.

"Pass 'GO' and collect $200."
I don't know how many times I have given it back.
It seems every time I pass 'GO' I'm not collecting.
I'm not giving it back. I'm loosing It.
Loosing grip.
But it is time to stop.
Time to stop letting time push me back.
It is Time for me to push forward.
And collect that $200 on the way.
I'll start fresh.
Because I wanted to become.
Become someone I was not.
I did and I lost It all.
Then.
Then I came across you.
You were my 'GO' .
You were my start.
You were.
And now I am.
And now I am someone New.
I am the girl who takes you to the party.
Takes you to the party In the same t-shirt.
Same I'm t-shirt I wear to bed.
So stay.
Stay with me.
Stay with me right here.
Because right here, right now.
Right here, right now is perfect.
Let's disappear into perfect.
I hope my perfect is the same as yours.
The perfect of the ceiling fan turning to the rhythm.
The rhythm of our spinning bare feet on the floor of our first apartment.
Our first apartment with that living room light.
That living room light that keeps you begging for more.
Where the begging turns into a wonder.
A wanderlust feeling.
A curiousity feeling.
The feelings, along with the bare feet.
Lead us down the hall.
The hall where pictures hang of our high school days.
Let me be your party girl.
But a different kind of party.
A party that has a little apartment.
Just the two of us.
My old tv && no cable.
Your old bed && microwave.
Because this is my 'GO'.
You are my $200 that I wanted.
That $200 for rent.
For food.
For telephones that are only used to keep in touch.
Keep in touch with each other.
A month.
Soon that $200 becomes something else.
It becomes 200 days.
200 weeks.
200 weekends.
200 sleepless nights.
200 kisses.
200 tears.
200 months.
200 promises.
200 years.
Because you're my kind of different.
Kind of crazy.
Kind of happiness.
Soon it'll be 200 bandaids.
200 stuffed animals.
200 barbeques.
200 birthday parties.
200 everything.
Because you are my summer rain.
My winter snow.
Fall leaves.
Spring clouds.
I can't wait to make that 200 into something bigger.
Something full of love.
Full of laughing.
Full of little hands and toes.
Full of firsts.
Full of memories.
Full.
Beaches and glass houses.
Couple dogs.
Maybe a cat or two.
Motorcyle rides through the city.
Late nights on the beaches.
Trips to Mexico.
Drapes blowing from the salty wind.
Music always playing.
A cool summer night of love.
It couldn't be a better 200.
Because I want to.
I want dreams with you.
Because I want to with you.
You.
"Pass 'GO' and collect $200."

Stupid Issues. Stupid past.

Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is the way.
The way I'm supposed to live.
I mean I dream about the way I want me life to be.
A poor college kid with a messy apartment.
But with that messy apartment comes many things.
Messy hair.
A room full of music.
Ways to shortcut things.
But also a messy background.
I have abandonment issues.
Not because of my mother.
But slightly because of my father.
You know.
The man who was supposed to be there.
To walk me down the aisle.
To intimidate the boys I bring home.
To have a shoulder to cry on.
To play airplane and baseball with.
To explain to me why mama is sick.
To do everything a dad does.
But he wasn't.
Instead he was young and so was she.
He went home.
Home that is only a few minuets away.
Then moved.
Moved away.
Far away.
To NC.
I spend my whole life wondering.
Wondering where he might be.
What he looks like.
How he acts.
If he is married.
I had all these questions.
Questions that I have long forgotten.
It's been too long.
But also because after you find out.
You run.
Run far away.
You don't look back.
It wasn't my fault.
I try to control this.
This thing I have to live with.
And you can't learn.
Even though you promised.
And you were also part of the reason I have these issues.
I see you around.
You look so happy.
So content. Mellow.
And I only wish that you were the one.
The one in my shoes.
The one suffering.
The one hurting.
The one with questions.
The one without answers.
But also the one to show me it'll be okay.
That I'm loved.
That someone wants to be with me.
But no.
I pushed you away.
Far away.
All because of this stupid thing.
And now you are the one who had added.
Added to my issues.
Trust.
Commitment.
Abandonment.
Family.
And you expect me to be happy.
You see me and I seem fine.
But in reality, every time I see you.
I see you and wish.
Wish I could pound on your chest one more time.
Cry on the phone.
Fall asleep on the couch.
Kiss your lips.
Wave goodbye.
Laugh.
Be comfortable.
One more time.
But no.
All because of my stupid issues.
So thank you for making me.
Making me feel.
Feel like shit.
Feel worthless.
Unhappy.
Confused.
Lost.
Mentally unstable.
Crazy.
Unwanted.
Abandoned.
Unloved.
Violated.
Pathetic.
Thank you.
Because maybe.
Just maybe.
Maybe this is it. 

Maybe.

Where do I even begin?
Begin to start.
Start this crazy thing I called love.
This crazy thing called love.
It's something I have learned about.
I have learned that sometimes it isn't what you wanted.
What you want is a fairytale.
Fairytales are things only children believe in.
Maybe that's what I am.
Maybe I am a child.
Maybe I am the imagination.
Maybe I am the fairytale.
The fairytale of heartbreak.
Disaster.
Broken hope.
Maybe my clouds are lined with black instead of silver.
Just maybe.

Maybe I am the one who needs to find someone who will change the lining on my clouds.
Maybe I am the one who needs to stop searching.
We all find our selves searching for something at one point in life.
I found myself searching for my fairytale.
Searching for it.
My fairytale.
You.

I thought I had found it.
It was the perfect first date.
The prefect "my official real date".
You promised me a million things.
Anything from teaching me to longboard to forever and always.
Now I am just a faded memory in the background.
My touch lingering on your skin.
The sound of my voice in your ear.
The picture of me in your hat.
It's all a memory.

Maybe one day we will cross paths.
Try things again.

Maybe it's my fairytale.
My wildest dream.

Maybe it was a short lesson we both needed to learn.
Maybe it will turn into a valuable lesson we will teach others.

Maybe it was a mistake to tell you those stupid three words.
To let you fall asleep on my couch.
Kiss my lips.
Lace my fingers in yours.
Play with my hair.
And touch my skin.
Maybe it was a mistake to hear those stupid three words from you.

Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Just.
Maybe.

Half of me misses the hell out of you.
Half of my hates you.
Half of me wonders what I did wrong.
Was it my crazy fucked up life?
My anxiety?
My depression?
My sassy comments you laughed at?
My thought process?
My clean slate?
What was it.
Half of me wants to laugh.
Half of me wants to cry.
Half of me wants to beg you to come back.
Half of me wants to walk away.

I guess that broken road of yours we talked so much of.
Maybe the broken part of it was me.
I guess I'll see you sometime at a y in the road.
Maybe I'll be one choice.
Standing.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Screaming your name.
You look at me with a blank stare.
And walk away.
Like you didn't even see me standing in the background.
Good bye.
Where do I begin?