Joni.

Tears and fears, and feeling proud
To say 'I love you', right out loud...

Hopeful

Tired eyes
we sheltered together
from the storm
raging outside.
Tell-tale signs
of our age, dark hairs
sprout from your strong chest
They whisper that
we're growing up
Like fresh blades of grass, 
they show the everchanging seasons
we live through
And give me hope
that we will bloom,
rich with the piquancy of all
our emotions
Flushed by the rose blushes of youth
We wax and wane.

Rumours

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?

Just so.

The soft scent of cotton sheets.
(Really should clean them more often)
Ignore tempting deals on alcohol.
(Buy four bottles of Cava, and drink them all in front of the telly on a Tuesday night)
Avoid ending up with £350 phone bills.
(Four-hour phonecalls are the sweetest lullabies)
Plan in advance.
(Traipse up and down the Parade on Hallowe’en, only to end up with a squashed pumpkin)
Get to know your neighbours.
(Nose often pressed up against the window of a pizza place at 11am)
Be very careful.
(Sustain injuries on a kitchen countertop)
Immerse yourself in culture.
(Purchase eight horror flicks for £10)
Be thrifty.
(Spend hard-earned dollar on a taxi to see your favourite, at least thrice a week)
Frequent your local shop.
(Arguments between fridges as to what to make for dinner)
Give him the retards job.
(Parmasan)
Look after eachother.
(Kisses, all the time)

I love you.

Paint the silence black

Now save me.

It's the reason why your teething side frustrates me (irates me).

My problem.

When I see your picture my heart forms a fissure,
I guess that I get this way.
I need a rooftop I can look from or jump off,
I guess that I get this way.

What's the problem, dear? Are you feeling unloved?
That's what I was most afraid of.

I need a fresh arm I can slice up or cut off,
I guess that I get this way.
When my skies are crooked my scars turn blue,
I guess that I get this way.

Dice

I am crying over you...
I am smiling; I think of you.