shoelaces.i'd like to believe thatMore Like This
leopards can change spots to stripes and
people can shed bad habits like the
loose clothing of mine that once littered your floor.
i'd like to believe that love was for
the masses, and that feelings go on past
sub-space and we're not just two stars
i'd like to believe i still love you.
but i don't, i can't, impossible.
for your shoelaces never loosened their grip, your foot was always half out the door;
every little movement, little ripple, is a way for you to
deny all you know.
and you'll keep running until the day
your world crashes and your memories fade away.
you'll flee from any challenge, not because
you can't face it, because, dear God boy, you're not
and your laces as your noose, your feet as your keeper, and
i as your witness, you'll bleed every
tear, not because you're sad. or angry. or used.
but because you're meant to. it's what you've been
running from all along.
and nothing i or she or he does can change you.
i don't, i can't,
until.there are things that i loveMore Like This
and things I do not
you are a thing that I will love
you will ALWAYS be a thing that I love
until you are not.
i won't quit there's not much to taste when years of nicotineMore Like This
sit heavy on your tongue, stale like week-old bread
and vintage cheese, but you won't quit.
no, you won't quit.
because once upon a time all you tried to live for was
your next cigarette, and every cigarette you lived
for was a battle won.
no, you won't quit.
because once upon a time you swore
you could taste her still with each inhale and every
cigarette broke your heart, but filled it too.
no, you won't quit,
you won't quit.
Date a girl who drawsDate a girl who draws.More Like This
You know the one. Her bag will be filled with discarded pencils and pens, scraps of paper with mindless doodles on them and blank books sticking out of her bag. She's the one who spends an hour trying to find the perfect sketchbook, only to pick up three more because she just couldn't help herself. She's the one hunched over in the coffee shop, rain or shine, the gears in her mind turning and turning while her hands move to catch up with every idea she has. She's the one who's too focused on what she's doing that her coffee's gotten cold and the people around her peek over her shoulder but she doesn't realise.
Compliment her drawings.
Ask to see more.
Turn the pages carefully, gently. Look at how hard she pressed the pencil into the page, the failed drawings, the successful ones. Look at the careful lines, the messy ones, the ones that give the drawings life. Linger on the pages you like but don't touch the drawings. Look at them carefully. Remember them.