This poem's just a little piece of everything,
painted to look sort of like the morning sky.
It's all dusky and sad, faded just a tad,
and I swear it makes me want to cry.
I don't have the words to tell you
what it felt like when my heart crashed to the floor.
I didn't cry, not that I remember...
I don't like to cry much anymore.
You asked me the sound of my heartbeat,
well close your eyes and shut them tight.
Picture the sound of a springtime wind
ripped through the center with light.
Now picture exactly the opposite,
now you can hear the beat of my heart.
It's ragged and jagged and broken,
missing a thousand central parts.
You told me to tell you my everything,
did you know I still believe in fairy tales?
And I don't like vegetables, and I don't like fish,
and never once in my life have I tried snails.
I see the moon in the morning,
I write poems to it while I walk, trying not to make sound.
And when I was little I was scared
that my home'd burn down to the ground.
I'm still scared of the dark some nights,
I really wish I had someone to hold.
I always wish for a cool breeze in the summer,
but quite honestly, I halfway hate the cold.
You told me to tell you my everything,
but everything's just a large mess.
I'm scared and I'm shaken; I'm breathing,
and I inhale thanks to you, I confess.
I'm scared this isn't quite what you meant...
why would someone amazing like you want to know
about how I feel about everything...
how the stars make me feel beautiful when they glow?
What if I told you a secret...
you're a huge part of my everything, dear.
You're my best friend, my tomato, my Wesse
and being without you is my greatest fear.
I feel like this poem is nothing,
not a dent in the everything that is me...
I think I'll simply conclude with "I love you"
and a promise to show you more when I see.
