“The difference between you and me is simple, like breathing. And sometimes just the difference irritates me. Like how eating more than 2 M&M’s at a time makes me stress out: they must always be in pairs. Or how I check to make sure my computer is shut down correctly with everything closed, nothing left open. But those differences don’t irritate me as much as never being completely sure that my door is locked or that my window is closed. So I check it again and again. You don’t care about M&M’s in pairs: you tend to eat 3 or 5 at a time, and I want to tell you that you just can’t. But I stop myself. When you shut down your computer you leave things open because you say you want to always start up where you left off. I know I’m crazy but I check your doors for you at night and windows too. And I’m continuously afraid for you. But the way you smile at me has nothing wrong in it like too many a’s or p’s. And when I hear your heartbeat next to mine I almost forget to count the M&M’s but then I catch myself and the pairs continue. Some of the time, you catch me writing down that all the windows on my computer are closed and you just tell me that even though I’d like to always be starting things over I am your good enough and you’ll never go back to a before. And I stopped checking my computer after that because I wanted to be good enough to deserve a wonderous you. Most of all though, I’ve found that sometimes at night I’ll lie down on my bed and think of you and before I know it it’s 2 am. And I’ve left my door unlocked on purpose.”
“The problem in entirety was contained In her understanding of them. To her, “us” was a concept that couldn’t ever Even dream to contain her. And somehow “us” turned into HIM and her Which could never be good enough.”
“She asked why I was so wide awake At 2 am And I said That thinking of him made me smile And smiling wouldn’t ever tire me.”
“Once I met an artist Whose canvas was the most beautiful thing ever breathed But he carved into and tried to do away with it. Even now- in the spaces inbetween The destruction he called art- The beauty of the canvas leaked through. And I could count the beauty in his scars.”
“And when she told him she loved him He only asked how she knew And her lip trembled ever so gently And when she breathed out he saw it for the first time How everything she did was done for him How her life was a poem for him that she didn’t know would ever be heard And how she loved him anyways.”
“Wherever she walked Everything somehow had more meaning And even the stars looked soft And the ground was beautiful Just because she had treaded upon it And maybe it was because she had so much to herself That she had to give some beauty away Wherever she went.”
“Somehow it all made sense to me: What if I promised to tell the truth, Then what would happen? Everytime you saw me all you would see would be the love radiating from my skin. And maybe that was good and beautiful.”
“And you said I wanted to take a picture that would contain all of you in it. And I said God, that wouldn’t be too hard, what’s holding you back. And you said That would be like asking the world to climb onto the head of a pin.”
“I used to think that things I’d dream about you Like will he like the same music as me Or will the world look a bit different to him Were not as important as what you saw in me Or the way I would be changed anew. Yet I find that everytime you open your eyes The subtle difference in the way you see Where things are haphazardly smudged together And things aren’t defined into colors Is a something I want to be able to touch And feel with my hands and eyes and fingers. And I think that this is a better love story Than the one when I called you my savior.”
“Where does the love go When I am done with it?”