You.

He has bushy eyebrows above small eyes, with an asian lilt. A crooked smile, below a straight nose with slightly flared nostrils.
And yet, the imperfections gather to create something completely perfect.
When he smiles, really smiles with no inhibitions- the kind of smile that makes his eyes crinkle up and that dimple appear - I automatically feel my cheeks lifting.
When those eyes fill up, all I want to do is to pull him into my arms and kiss the sorrow away.
He's noble and chivalrous. Stubborn and flawed.
I love him for all that he is and all that he isn't.
For his passion and for his determination. For all that completes him, the light and the dark.
I love him and he's finally mine.
-With a bit of faith, trust and some pixie dust.

Chill the fuck out girl.

The biggest fight I fight is with myself.
What is important to me? What are my priorities? How am I going to make it if I don't even know myself?
I'm so confused and so messed up and everything is still so hard. Nothing is ever easy. Theres just an illusion of easy.

Im getting way too over.
I need to calm the fuck down.
I need to give it time.
I need to chill the fuck out.
Everything I'm thinking is bullshit.
I should do only what I want to, or I will be unhappy.
I should not be afraid of conflict.

The path I choose.

I stared at the reflection in the mirror.
A round face glared back at me, adorned with a prominent chin, tear stained cheeks, large, sunken in eyes and pale skin.
The nose was slightly larger than average, and the eyebrows were arched and unmade.
This was my face. I was looking at myself. My pathetic, sad, sad self.
I glanced at my hands and noticed the chipped off nail polish topping my slim fingers with a slight inner nod. Completely fitting that the polish should be chipped.
My decisions, and non existent options stretched out in front of me, like a dusty old crinkled map.
So many tiny lines going off in so many different directions. Overlapping and crossing and getting jumbled and tangled into one another.
Tracing them, trying to see where it all led to did me no good. I had to pick one, but the most attractive was ironically the most messy. Choosing it would mean uncertainty beyond my wildest imaginations.
I could be on the stairway to heaven, or walking down the highway to hell, I wouldn't know until I was close to the destination.
But boy was it tempting. The roses alongside it grew lush and red, with seemingly no thorns and a heavy overwhelming scent.
Only when you plucked one did it prick your finger, and then the bleeding would start.
And you would find out that the graze was actually a cut.
It was, however, all in your mind.
You could easily ignore the pricked finger, and the tiny scratch would dissappear into nothing, but that would also be the most difficult thing you would do.
You had to choose your own happiness on this path, and make hell your heaven.
But that was the easiest and most difficult thing to do.
And I was not sure I could do it.

On being a creeper, on being in love.

Right now, I can hear you breathing.
Its intense and its soothing. Its intimate and it's slightly creepy- on my part, that is.
The need to make you feel better is overwhelming at times. Hearing you flail and call out my name? Almost heartbreaking.

Your breaths are like my very own private brand of music. They have their own rythm, their own tune.
Faster, and faster, laborious, intense, rising up to a crescendo- a break- and after that, peace.
It's a constant loop, with a few grunts and mumbled whispers occasionally mixed in. Trying to make out the whispers is impossible so far. They're mostly incoherent but then- I hear my name and freeze.
I'm confused. Did you mean to say it? Are you dreaming? Are you half awake?
And there it is again.
I close my eyes.
I wish I was there with you right now. I wish I could stroke your hair, kiss your lips, trace the shapes of your eyes and nose and cheeks and I wish and I wish and I wish. I wish we were together.

I don't know if what I'm feeling is actual love. The kind of fairytales and happy endings. It feels like it. It really does.
But this world is so very jaded. And I'm unsure. Will I always feel this way?
I hope so. What if it gets tainted by the world? The world has that kind of fucked up power. I don't want to be questioned. I just want to believe.
And right now, i don't want to stop believing.
It's a scary thought.
I don't want to  build my castle just yet, but the clouds look heavenly this time of the day.

Right now is the part where you're at peace. Or your breaths are, at least.
It's soothing to be doing things around the house, yet hearing you breathe as if you're right beside me.
It makes me feel like I'm not alone.
And I love the fact that I can help you sleep. That I can help you with things that you need, and that it's only me, who can help you with them. It's me that you've choosen to help you.

You told me that you love me the most. That I'm the most important person in your life.
Do you have any idea of how heavy those words are? Or of how light they make me feel?
An invisible weight lifted off my shoulders... A weight I didn't know much about until it wasn't there anymore.
This proves me right you know.
I predicted this in the beginning... but time made me unsure. Your pain seemed to have no end- and it made me doubt so many things.
But I'm thankful that I know you enough to know who you really are.
And I'm thankful that you choose me.

Miss you.

It's not Love.

Isn't it sad when you find out the base was actually cracked all along?
Now you've built this teetering tower, and as it, it's wobbly and then you realize- oh shit- the base.
The base is cracked.
Now you must figure out if it can be fixed, if you can make do, or if the building will fall.
My building is falling, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if it can be fixed. I'm sure the base is cracked, but I can't tell by how much.
Pretty fucked up shit all around. Why can't my castles be shiny and beautiful with doves at the windows, horses in the stables and me singing on the balconies? Why does mine have to resemble a haunted house with rotting tombstones and cobwebs galore?
Okay, slight exaggeration.
But it's not fair.
If I can sing on the balcony, you can very well wear your fucking armour and bring your fucking white horse underneath it too.

Molten Chocolate Cake

Your life beat strong beneath my lips
As I stretched out my fingertips
Trying to hold on to you, to time
To keep myself in this moment so very alive

Your moans kindled a fire within
as breaths got heavy and hands wandered

never still but then time slipped
from the tips of hands
too shaky to be fully in command
And rolled off crashing to its end
Pulled apart by claws and told to bend
Our nightmare took shape, dark and black

But you stood strong and I with you
As hands held hands and vowed never to
Bend or break or ever let go
They held on as the gales ripped through
And held on as the floods threatened too
As the plagues plagued
as the minds cried
They held on with almost shaky sighs
The end was near, predictions bleak
But in the end?

Your lips beat life through mine again
Hands intertwined with you and time again
Hopeful and happy and holding on tight
Never giving up, not ever without a fight.

Grilled Cheese

I still loved you in January.
They told me its okay to cry
I still loved you in February
They held me close and sighed
My heart held on in March
But the love refused to leave
And in April there were dreams 
Dreams that I slowly weaved
You would remember me
As i remembered you
But May came around
And my dreams, slowly fell through
I still loved you in June
But breathing, it was easier now
I missed you in July
And in August too
But they were always there- and life again begin to bloom
In September there were chinks in the armour
But October bought change
It brought me all the hope I'd thought lost,
Brought in all the hope again
I did not miss you in November
I did not love you in December
And in January,
I love him.