you take over two hours to reply to my messages, and I can't find it in my self to get angry about it. i wait by my phone like some bad 80's movie, i'm pathetically attracted to your sarcastic replies, magnets.

there's something about the way that you insult me that makes me smile more than compliments ever could. i'm the worst and it's wonderful.

you look like danger. i should be terrified to cut my self on your broken glass skin but you make me want to bleed in a good way, when i'm with you i'm reminded that i'm alive.

the last time i wrote bad poetry it was about how much i wanted to kill myself. it's nice to be able to write about good you look in my hat instead. just so you know, you in my stupid navy hat is the cutest thing i've ever witnessed.

i've never met someone who makes the word park sound like a trip to disneyland. your body is covered in scrapes, my lips are still tingling with the taste of you. swing a little higher. let's swing until we can steal the stars.

this is all so very new. you have adventure written in the lines of your palm, i'm a riverbed, i see adventure but never experience it myself. tell me, if i learn to be the water, will you swim along with me?

we've both been burned, so why am i so attracted to your flames? my god, i'll never learn, i'll never learn.

you're terrified of storms, but you have one surrounding you. the eye of it lies in your kiss, though even there i don't feel fully safe. it's nice to not worry about the morning when i spend an evening around you.

admittedly, i don't know you. i've heard all the rumors, i've gotten warnings from half the town that you're a glowing danger sign, but i'm no longer afraid. or, i'm ignoring fear in favor of listening to you sing songs that'd make a priest blush.

shall i compare thee to something that can't describe you well enough? i think not. this isn't love, it's adventure of the best kind. you're a swaying tree, a summer breeze, a frozen lake. you're none of these things, you're everything.

your eyes are the color of what i'd always imagined heaven was. there is no afterlife, but in my dreams the world is your eyes and i'm suspended in space. you act like my compliments are light, without substance, but the sky is the heaviest, most meaningful thing i know of. just ask atlas.

you have talent unimagined. i noticed you for beauty and stayed the whole show so i could applaud until my hands were red and stinging. i debated writing you a letter after your final performance, about how wonderful you are, but i don't have the words. just know- you make me speechless.

you're not angelic, your head lacks even the barest hint of a halo and i'm grateful for it. i didn't meet you in an art gallery. you're not supposed to touch angels or masterpieces. i want to place my hands upon your skin, show you what words can't using only my mouth.

i don't know what this is. i don't even know how you feel. but that is more than okay. you're a mystery, you're a lion, you're you and i'm blessed to have met you. if this all ends tomorrow, just know your smile was enough.