And I guess the truth of the matter is that I never learned to write love poems,
I dress up all emotions and dialogue as thinly veiled sex,
Aim to make them miss me without telling them why I need them to,
I never learned how to successfully calm the tornado of thoughts to tell a soul,
Especially words so scary that I make break if they leave my body,
How do you tell someone that they’re so beautiful it breaks your heart,
That all of their pieces are the things that you imagine when you close your eyes,
That you love them so deeply that you absolutely worship them,
Their voice in your head, their fingers in your hair, their legs wrapped around you,
Wanting someone so deeply that you can’t put it into tangible words,
How do you love something so sweet and so beautiful,
Someone who had to exist specifically to meet you,
You don’t want to share all of the things you love out loud,
Because you want them to belong only to you.
I was never good at letting someone know how badly I wanted them to see what I see,
How fucking badly you want to be thing that loves them the most,
The thing that they use to enjoy life,
The thing that you see when you close your eyes,
How do you tell someone that they deserve words you’re still learning how to say,
That everything about them is wonderful in a way,
That is absolutely fucking terrifying