RIA

dead musicians mean a lot to me.

something about their life,

how they seemed so content,

and honest,

pouring their soul into every piece of art they crafted.

is that why they were taken from us?

was the world not deserving of such purity?

i wonder if they know

how influential they are,

the emotions that they evoke,

if not in others, then at least in me.

as i listen to a ballad,

all i can do

is desperately beg you

and the thing is

i would’ve done anything for you

anything you asked

anything you wanted

anything you needed

i was putty in your hands.

i would’ve willingly submitted myself 

to any request 

any demand;

and i guess that's why i can’t be mad.

because it’s clear you wanted me to go away,

and so i did.

and you're still okay.

so in some conceited way,

maybe that's why it hurts so much.

to see that us drifting apart hasn’t affected you in the slightest.

it didn’t shatter your world like it did mine

you didn’t have to take weeks to regroup yourself

you don’t hear bennie and the jets and hurt like i do. 

i would never wish pain on you,

someday

we'll be together

and we'll live forever

in a great big house

on a hill

and still

we'll be just like

we always have.

and the hours and the miles

and the roads far and wide

that stretch across the land

we accept the love we think we deserve.

i think about that a lot

especially referring to you.

it baffles me

how you think you deserve so little

it makes me body heat with anger.

frustration burning through my veins,

through my skin,

clamping itself shut around the root cause,

my heart.

is it jealousy, or just human decency?

do i want to be him,

or do i want you to love yourself more?

or do i want you to turn that devotion to me?

someone who can love you

so much better than him?

someone who’ll return it?

don't you want that?

do you not think you deserve that?

because out of the 7 billion people in the world

there’s no one more deserving of love than you.

and i know it’ll eventually die down,

i never truly understood what people meant

when they said,

"i wish this moment would last forever,"

until i met you.

because in that moment,

i could've stayed there

till the end of time

and never would've complained once.

so with flowers taped to my mirror,

dirt in a jar on my desk,

and your dark green hoodie,

i wait until the next time

i can wrap my arms around you

like they were made to,

and hope

that this time,

i can find a way

no one has ever cared for me

as much

as you do

yeah,

i need you here

i'm gonna look up

from my phone

and see my life

and it's gonna be just like my recurring dream

i'm at the movies,

i don't remember what i'm seeing.

the screen turns into

a title wave.

then it's a dorm room,

like a hedge maze

and when i find you

you touch my leg and i insist

but i wake up before

we do it

it feels like a piece of me is black,

cut out.

faded away from my body,

my heart,

my soul.

but you're here,

you're back,

why do i feel this way?

maybe its because i’m reminded

that ill never be nothing more

than an entity

when the light is red, you stop.

but what do you do

when the light turns blue

with orange and lavender spots?