#lbtis

She holds him but not with her arms, not yet First with her eyes then with her smile She cradles him with her words and he falls asleep without knowing the comfort of her touch Not yet

Trust that when I say I have no more poems to show it’s because I can’t pretend my poems aren’t about you as well as you like to pretend I haven’t noticed yours are about me

Suddenly all of the questions that were racking my brain didn't seem to matter anymore I got my fix Until next time,

Could someone ask my stomach to stop doing somersaults and my mind to stop racing? I think you’re the only one they’ll answer to

It takes a brave soul to share a poem with strayed meaning and love sewn into the words, but it takes a warm heart to read those words and accept them and understand without ridicule It takes a soft tongue to ask for a bit of an explanation, something mine was too limp to lift the weight of  It takes a deranged mind to pretend poems are better than real words but that's something your rose tinted irises will always be too obscured to see

Raised eyebrows and halted intuition Misplaced heartbeats Asking if there's water in my eyes and silently taking sips of yours How can I be here and feel like I'm missing it?

When I begin writing for the boy instead of for myself I know I need to start over.

If you only talk of the things you hate you'll be remembered as all the things that drove you into the ground instead of showing others the love thats helped you climb back out.