I come up with names before I write these which is bad.

I want to pick the strings of my guitar to the beating of my heart.

But picking these strings would break the strings of my heart for the picking would be too fast.

It would stop...

Just like it did the first time you put your head on my shoulder.

When the dam broke free and the river would run down the mountain and not my face because I was happy.

Why the fuck can't I write anything? Why am I so uninspired?

Belief

I never believed it'd be like this. That I'd get to kiss you or even call you mine. I didn't think I'd be sketching out this drawing in the poorly lot room of my heart.

But the truth is, you light up the room. You show me the vibrant colors of the world, and my heart beats faster every time I see you.

Every time I feel you I get this buzzing in my chest like a bee caged in an electric trap waiting to get out.

A burst of emotion that makes me want to live again.

That makes me happier than I've felt in a long time, because I'm a lonely dog.

A dog who hasn't seen their owner in 2 hours after a trip to the grocery store.

Ecstatic.

Frantic.

Excited.

Happy.

Just happy.

For the first time in a long time.

I can say I'm happy with the way my life is going.

Because the road I see is one newly paved, yet driven thousands of times.

But this time is different.

Like I don't say that every time. Just let me be happy, alright?

Don't let my over thinking heart take this down the road I traveled more. Cause I wanna be like Robert frost and take the one less traveled by. The one less traveled by myself. All my writing is shit. I want to hold your hand and just dance.

Dance our breath away.

Until our last breath has been breathed, and our last kiss has been kissed, and the last page has been turned in this WONDERFUL book you and i are reading,

And I want to die in your arms with your lips pressed to mine in this fiery inferno we call home.

Just take me home.

My life

I'm trapped inside my lovely dreams for what seemed like an eternity. Only to be awakened by this curse.

I can't enjoy these luxuries of sleep when darkness lies. I dream of you and wake to hell and must live this mortal life.

Reanimate my soul each day, put on this sickened mask, of outstretched smiles and powdered dreams and escape this putrid past.

Oh my dreams can never last. I wake and pull the vinyl strings on my puppet casket shaft. I scream and shout to no avail to be free from day to day.

To dream of our dances on skeletal grounds, and the flames that doth lick on our flesh.

I crave for your touch but it's withheld from me by these veils of black whispers and wretched soundscapes.

The good old days

All my friends are dead or really don't like me. Or maybe they never existed in the first place.

It's probably that one. They never existed. Because the ones who don't like that you're happy here and now are the ones who don't exist.

Because I'm happy here and now.

And I haven't been in a long time.

I just don't want to have to choose between the two. I want to live and be happy and free, to just talk endlessly into the nights while still having someone to see more than every other tiring day I have to wake up and live this endless nightmare.

I just want to talk it out through the tip of this pen to the Manila paper pages of my heart.

Can I just be happy? Because I'm almost there. All I need Is what it used to be. Because it's all I ever wanted.