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Unsteady

I find myself falling in love with things out of my reach, like the sky or you. I find myself holding on to things that are desperately begging to be let go off.  Things that don’t want to be held or touched. Things that love to run away. I’m not used to being in one place for a long time. I’m used to being temporary. I’m used to new places and new faces. I’m used to running away. I gave you my heart; bandaged and glued together, and you had the audacity to give it back with more cracks. I don’t believe in much but I believe in expiration dates. I find myself always looking for them on the back of milk cartons and on relationships. Things aren’t meant to last long. At least that’s what I’ve been shown. Until you drove past my darkest thoughts and stopped to listen.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

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Little Things

I notice little things
a little too much,

I notice the smallest things about a person
a little too often

Like the birthmark at the corner of her neck
isolated and perfect,
my empty hand already writing stories about it.

I notice the jagged lines and dents on his forearm
creating valleys that I wanted to get lost in,
as he stirred his black coffee.
I memorized their rhythm
and just like a snake;
I was fixed in a trance watching his movements.

I notice things like
your off shaped tooth
or the funny scratch on your eye brow

I notice when your eyes twinkle
and when they go dim

I try not to on some days though.
But most days, I enjoy noticing things
Little things.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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Come Pick Me Up.

One night I will wake up just before the clock strikes 3 am

I will roll over and pull my blanket around me;

As I roll over I will find the warm wall your body built

between me and the edge of the bed.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

I won’t have my thoughts keeping me awake

instead the drumming of your heart

will sing me a sweet lullaby

until I drift back to sleep.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

it won’t be because the monsters under my bed

are talking loudly, but instead,

it might be because your snoring in my ear stirred me awake

or you pulled the blanket all the way to your side

or just because.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

I won’t be searching for my phone to text you about the dream I just had

instead, I’ll wake you, or try to at least, and tell you about it.

One day.

One can hope, that One day.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

 

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I’ll keep wondering.

I often wondered why I couldn’t write about you.

I often day dreamed about your warm breath against my neck,

or the sound of my name (or versions of it) rolling off your tongue,

But I could never quite figure out why I couldn’t write about you.

I couldn’t turn you in to metaphors and exaggeration.

I couldn’t even rhyme your name.

Heck, I couldn’t even figure out the rhythm of your beating heart!

You’d think that after six months I’d have figured it out,

But here I am, still wondering.

Maybe, just maybe;

You are worth more than a clever metaphor and rhyme.

Maybe, just maybe;

You mean more to me than just a poem.

Maybe, just maybe;

I can’t turn you in to poetry, because you’re not a figment of my over active imagination.

Maybe, just maybe,

You’re real.

 

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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You and I.

I am a jar of butterflies and moths. I am a novel of ‘Uhmms’ and nervous twitches. I am a balloon of confidence and smart comebacks. I am also a sack of positive soul food. I am a bowl of excited chatter and hysterical rants.I am greedy and love. I am everything that is allowed to be. I am torn and stitched together. I am bruised and flawless. I am hot water in a quivering glass. I am a ticking grenade at a Christmas dinner. I am always fight and win. I am precious moments and heartbreaks. I am everything. 

And then there’s him.

He’s a shaken bottle of champagne. He’s an encyclopedia of scars and dark stories. He’s mystery and secret romance that blossoms under the moonlight. He’s withheld promises and careful touches. He is the bomb squad. He is the glue and duct tape. He is soul and a strong seductive voice. He is a warm mug of hot cocoa. He is crumbling toast and peanut butter. He is all the wonder and beauty of an eclipse and he is all the destruction and beauty of an avalanche.He is always fight and win. He is everything. 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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I Choose You.

Your voice vibrated against my skin.

Each molecule thudding and bursting against themselves creating a mild havoc within the fibre that held the parts of me together. They ran fast through my fingers, making each nerve feel electric at your touch. I’ve never felt a spark before, except this was almost too real. Too electric. Was it possible to be electrocuted by a touch that was so magnifying that you knew it would be the eventual death of you? Was it crazy to want it more each day,despite that it?

I was fascinated at the melody your tongue could muster up. Both through lyrics and against my own. It wasn’t just a moonlight werewolf howling hair standing on your arm, kind of fascination that you managed to drum up in my veins. It was much more.

Although, words seem to fail me at this precise moment. I am positive there will be a day when I could finally describe with much reverie and passion; what it is you’ve brought upon me. Maybe it will be a beautiful damned destruction or maybe it’ll be salvation.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

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A Thief in the Night

She stole kisses that were only meant to fall on my lips. She stole hugs from the arms that were designed to hold my trembling body steady. Arms that were meant to fit around me. She stole smiles from him and never considered to pass them to me. I was here, away from him, holding a fragment of his heart in my quivering,sweaty palms, blinking away tears as I wondered if maybe; just maybe, you’d given her the bigger parts of your heart for her to hold?

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow