if this is love

it’s 2am.

sleep induced snores and the sound of rain falling against the windowsill keeps me awake.

won’t you come hold me for a little longer? 

only counting the days until together means something a little less temporary and a bit more permanent.

won’t you just hold me a little longer?

maybe that’s why i always wish for rain, because it simply means i’m wishing for you.

so when the sun comes up i’ll draw you my first thoughts — a breath of fresh air when my lungs forget what it feels like to breathe.

you have become my favorite type of song. i could dance to it all night long.

what are we waiting for? the stars? the moon?

yeah, that sounds good. let’s wait on the floating orb and shiny dead balls to tell us our fate.

i’m just so caught up on you. i don’t need fate or promises.

i just need you.

if anything exists then nothing can be anything,

and if nothing can be anything,

then something can be everything.

i have seen lightning strike the same spot twice — do you think we’ll have that kind of luck?

i have seen love kill a man and jealousy destroy a women.

promise me that we won’t repeat the same mistakes of romeo and juliet.

let’s be different. let’s dismantle this idea society has put in our head of what love should look like. let’s steer clear of anything stereotypical and monotonous.

i want to write on your skin in permanent marker to let you know you’re mine.

while you’re asleep, i’ll doodle our love language in color over the scars you’ve told me about. i want to brighten your life with the words you make me write.

i won’t use blue, because blue has always been a sad color. instead i’ll use lilacs and yellows, because i’m happy you’re still around.

we are fire and light, and you burn me brighter and brighter everyday. so if we’re together, don’t smother me the ashes and smoke. keep me at a distance, but love me with the same energy — that’s proof that fire can keep you warm.

my goodbyes to you always stuck in my head — it tastes like bittersweet times of when you’ll come home again. am i your home? 

i’ll see you soon.

i won’t be long.

this won’t take forever.

if life is this, let’s make it art.

if this is love, let’s write a poem —

                                                                  somewhere inside your hands,

                                                                  somewhere past the home run,

                                                                  somewhere close to me,

                                                                  somewhere beyond this misery,

                                                                  i can love,

                                                                  and i can feel it. 

                                                                  someone to miss,

                                                                  someone to kiss,

                                                                  someone to understand,

                                                                  someone who exist in the realm of my fantasies,

                                                                  someone who you don’t have to think about

                                                                  to know they’re thinking about you,

                                                                  too.

these are my thoughts about you. so does that make it love? who can tell? 

so in the meantime, tell me words that’ll make me regret not finding you sooner. where have you been?

tell me words that’ll make me feel like this is it,

tell me things i’d share with the night sky when it can’t tell the difference between beginnings and endings,

tell me the words my soul needs to hear,

tell me the words that my heart beats to,

tell me what’s on your mind, what’s in your heart, and who you used to love, and what i do to avoid that entirely? i don’t want to lose you. not yet. 

if this is real,

if this is raw,

if this is gentle,

if this is tender,

if this is nothing into something,

if this is something into everything,

tell me how to love you,

tell me how to keep you,

tell me how you want to be wanted,

tell me how you need to be needed,

tell me how you’ve slept through so many lonely nights just to wake up into a dream that doesn’t require more rest,

tell me about the time you almost had a home,

but then, as always, something went wrong.

this isn’t one of those things — this is the thing.

and if i can use art as an excuse to keep you around, i will, because you will always find new ways to be my inspiration and my muse.

i’d like to know the parts of you that you’ve yet to discover. let’s figure this out together.

they say we know more about space than we know about our very own ocean.

so you can be the solar system or you can be the darkest secret of the ocean, as long as you share it with me.

you can be the worst thing that has ever happened to mankind, but with that smile, i’d still want to know why you look at me like that.

you have become the best thing that has ever happened to me, and that’s something i never want to change.

so if this is love, if this is everything we’ve got — please tell me how to love you until it no longer hurts to dwell, please slip into my dreams, find a way to remain in my memories forever, and whisper your sweet nothings into my ear.

if this is love,

if this is real,

if this is fantasy,

if this is a nightmare,

if this is a dream,

if this is you,

the real you, 

can i just dance with you to every classical song known to mankind?

if this is truly what you want,

if you’re truly in love with me,

if this truly is it,

can you just paint my lonely blues into the sweetest lilacs and yellows,

or maybe red since that symbolizes the color of love.

me and you — we’ll paint with so much red that even roses can’t withstand its own color.

i don’t want this to be another sometimes i love you.

i want this to be without a doubt i love you.

i want you to be my something that was turned into everything.

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