Your heart lies in my hands,
just waiting to be held
against my chest, but
I know I'll press so hard
that we'll become a bloody mess.
You keep me from learning;
books everywhere and past
somewhere; had to
let my phone die just to
stop myself from speaking.
I want to charge my battery so bad,
I want to be loved so bad.
But I listen to love songs
and don't long for you.
Maybe I'm too used
to unrequited love.
And you love me till it hurts,
and I don't love you, till it hurts.
There's something about silence
that consumes the pain of poetry.
