Closed Book

You're no stranger to the thoughts in my head.  You've read the words written on my soul, like an open book, I lay there vulnerable and impatient.

I continue to write.

It's easy to assume that others believe the same things you do, and sometimes we just dream for the next line to tug at your heart and feel what we do. I'm scared to give you all of me until there's nothing left, but no one likes a closed book, so I keep writing.

When I'm with you I never say the right things, so I keep writing.

I often wonder what I'm doing here and what this will all lead to in the end. If I'll make the right choices and if love is really all we need.

Rainy days and wet clothes.  Some people aren't as lucky as us you know. Your hand in mine we jump in this river together.  No looking back. Just you and I writing our own book, and all I can do is hope you will lay there vulnerable and impatient with me.  Because no one likes a closed book.

A Story About a Boy and a Girl

He never imagined the negative outcome of his ambition. How was he supposed to know that this time, the voices in his head and the feelings in his heart were pushing him away from her?

I knew a man who loved a girl. She wrote about him and he dreamed about her. They held hands, they kissed and they kept each others secrets. It was something made for the movie screens, and those who passed them on the streets were jealous. "How can two kids know something about love?"

Now I'm not one to meditate on the unknown, but sometimes I wonder if he knew that his love would push them apart. Or if she knew the path she was inevitably going down.

I guess some things are better left unsaid.

-with love, indecision.

3:15 AM

It's 1:15 in the afternoon and I should be working, but for the past 10 months everyday, there has been one thing on my mind.

I spent 2 years of repetition and it made sense, the world that is. I imagined that when I came home things would continue to be easy and my path forever illuminated. I never imagined that God would let me decide for myself the road I take.

It's 3:15 in the morning and that one thing is on my mind.

You.

I wake up and see the reflection of a kid, scared to mess things up. I don't want to do this wrong, but sometimes I imagine you next to me and suddenly the world makes sense again.  Just like it did 2 years ago.

"Oh he's so cliche writing about love." "Every post is about her." "He's just another wannabe writer with no originality."

For one second let's just be honest. It's been about love from day one.  Okay,  I never knew what love was, but I wanted to and I tried so hard to fit in. I wrote poems about a girl I thought I knew and about a feeling that wasn't truly in my heart. It felt like we were reaching for something that never actually existed. I watched movies and observed people who knew things that I didn't, who lived in a world that I would never be apart of.

Well now things are different.  It's 3:15 AM and I swear I haven't stopped worrying about you. The thought of seeing you again gets me through the day, and it keeps me alive in a world that I'm not so excited to live in.

And for that, I thank you.