[x]

there's nothing that feels quite like this.Maybe the problem is that I don't know what a love story should sound like. I haven't figured out what order I should put the words in to make it read just right. I do, however, know what it feels like, but pushing around nouns and adjectives just to make it grow is the hardest thing I'll ever do. And it's true that I've tried it before and maybe I succeeded once, but since then I've learned the way real love washes through veins, and rumbles through the shifting and settling of bones until it changes you completely in a way that is absolutely unyielding. Perfect. Simple. It's not angry, or jealous, it doesn't hurt. It isn't like before. So n

maybe you never belonged to meI can still feel the weight of your lips on the curve of my collarbone. Sometimes, it feels paralyzing, crushing, absolute. Sometimes, it feels like home. Like everything.

I once heard that when you can't fall asleep it means you're awake in someone else's dream. I wonder which one of us was dreaming that night, because everything was too quiet, too easy, too perfect. You used to fall asleep next to me, your body curled against mine. It's a warmth that's not easy to forget. A hidden smile tucked into pillows and sheets. It's easy to think these things will last forever when you're tangled up together. For me, the strings of my life will alwa

we're all made of stories.We're all either made of cells or stories, but in your case, it's both. You're somehow bigger than what one body can contain. And I know that all of this – all these words and breaths and spaces – aren't enough to explain you. You're better than any fiction will ever be.

I remember sitting in the passenger seat of your car, watching the familiar city streets flick by, fast like a picture book. It felt like there was something I was missing between the pages and second story houses, but I couldn't place it. I had my arms wrapped tight around my middle, holding my insides in since I was afraid with every passing moment I would let th

these feelings should be finiteI'm terrified and I know there's nothing unique about this, but I'm standing here completely out of touch with the rest of the world, realizing for the first time that we all feel things a little bit differently, which is why this doesn't hurt for you at all. I figure the only logical reason for how you could do this as if it means nothing was if it really did mean nothing at all for you. It's easier to hate you this way. It's easier to forget you without the burn of your kiss against my skin. It's easier to stay mad if I don't have to remember the way that it felt. Most of all, I can forget this as if it's a memory in someone else's lifetime

I'll never tell you -- you already know.I remember in the beginning
there was just you and me
and heartbeats--

small intervals where the air would leap from my chest,
saying you leave me breathless will always be an understatement.

I wanted to kiss you before
I even knew you or knew the real you
but your untied purple chucks
had me even before your hello--

months later I realized that meant to be's aren't always
as silly as they used to be.

I've fallen in love with how
the palms of our hands match
the planes of our souls and
every time I loop my fingers
between yours we fall deeper--

If there was ever a time I should explain myself,
it's be right now, but I thin

alpengloweverything hard-kept in the heart is falling onto paper. each word so well-fought to be kept within the chest becomes a snowflake from november skies, but the winds are unseasonably warm and a fire is kindled inside each bone in place of a bitter chill.

there are ten thousand things i can never tell you.

the way that wars are fought, i wage battles among my selves to keep the quiet. you will never hear my voice, too soft like the pillow beneath your head each time our bodies find each other, say how my breath becomes a porch swing when we touch and i sway.

i can never call you by any name, given at birth or given by heart. you will neve

we don't sound like a whisper.The sun never sets over the water, but you still take me there whenever dusk comes to meet the horizon. We sit out on the rocks with me tucked tight against your chest, while you count stars like other people count blessings, but we're only half lucky with all these city lights ruining your chances. I know you're tired, love, but I'm terrified. I'm running out of ways to stop myself from telling you I miss you because twenty four hours isn't a long time to be separated and I'm really just more afraid of what you're doing when I'm not there -- and of what you're thinking when I am. I've been burnt enough times before to learn that loving with

these are the last things i'll say before i'm goneIf I had to give a name to what I'm feeling I would just call it disappearing. Because it's exactly like the way that you can know everything about someone one day and nothing the next. It's the quick death love has that leaves you wanting more – or wanting it back in the best and worst of ways.

If I had to explain I would say this feeling is something like standing outside of your door at four in the morning, even though I know I shouldn't be here, wearing the same wrinkled clothes I had on the day before, wanting nothing more than to beg to come home, but knowing better, because following the motions isn't really the best follow throu

time withers (but i will not break)they say time withers, but that we would never bend. now, i'm not so sure. friendship once forged in fire is growing weak at the base and arthritic at the joints. love cast in steel is now rusted and stained, dissolving at the mere sight of the sun. i trusted you. i did. i wore my heart on my sleeve and bled my tongue from my mouth just to show you the truth of the matter. i swallowed the guilt until it threatened to chew away at the strings holding me up; until i woke up screaming, my lungs giving out in protest as i writhed between cotton sheets, teeth biting the pillow to suppress the next anguished cry threatening to rip from my throat. i

we're never what we think.at least twice a day, i find myself wishing i was less.
less of a worrier.
less of a lover.
less of a mess.

all of this would be so much better, if the disconnect between
what i want and what i have would close because then things
would be simple for the first time in years. and i could inhale
without wondering what kind of consequences it will have five
minutes from now. you can only imagine what really goes
through my mind in the time it'll take you to breathe in and
out. now hold it. like i've been holding this thought for months—

the girl i was is quickly vanishing.

i've been holding it like a secret on the tip of

i can't promise you anything.i made a mistake
when i told you that i could love you
forever. i know now that the only thing
i can know for certain is that nothing
will ever be certain again. we could
wake up tomorrow and feel something
completely different. we could wake up
tomorrow and be completely different.
that's the exciting part. it's also the
part that makes it hard to even fall asleep
in the first place.

my heart attacks
my every whim and everyday is this whirlwind
of terror and elation and i don't even know
where to end or begin or if this makes sense
anymore, but the one thing i've come to realize
is the worst kind of lie will always be

i'm telling myself not to get my hopes up.It's been a long time since I felt like this.

It's all small kicks of my heartbeat
and subtle smiles when no one's looking.
I'm checking my phone messages
more times than any girl should,
but you're not letting me down.

You remind me of a time when things were easy
before I memorized what sadness felt like
and stopped feeling alive.

And for the first time, I don't feel broken
in a way that can't be fixed.
I don't feel like I was built in a way
that doesn't fit.

it's a quick drive to where we live.I know you don't believe in beautiful things. In fact, I know you don't believe in much of anything. I swear that's okay, because what I'm asking of you isn't meant to be built on blind faith – it isn't meant to be a split second decision. I'll give you the time you need.

Everything is brighter from the passenger seat of your old four door sedan with the black paint chipping off the front bumper, rust eating through the edges and corners of the doors. I've never seen so many shades and tints of green as I have curving around the sides of these country roads with you – too fast, too slow, too here then gone. When you drive fast enou

this isn't progress, because you're irreversible.You were never meant for me.

I knew it in the most obvious manner. It was in the way you had a subtle sort of comfort in your own skin – a quiet and humble confidence – while I struggled to make sense of the prints on my fingertips and the way one of my eyes crinkled in the corner more than the other when I smiled. You felt safe with yourself while I was always warring with my own reflection. Half the time, I didn't know who I was. A quarter of the time, I still don't. You would call this progress if you were here to see, but I just call it sad.

When you miss something for long enough, you start to forget the exact way that things

if i knew what this meant, i'd tell you.I'm positive that you're still missing the point.

Your house is just over the hill and I keep gasping for breath like this is the first time I've ever been alone with you and my skin hasn't memorized the loops and whirls that your fingerprints make against the indents of my hipbones. Sometimes, I act like I've never met you before because I'm afraid of losing the excitement of falling in love. I once heard that everyone is just looking for the next big thing – someone brighter and better than me. You've already started calling me "annie," because you got bored with my real name. I wonder if I should be scared. I wonder if I should be wo

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just realign our hearts pleaseThis is me meeting you more than four years ago.

The weather was colder than it should have been with furls of wind wrapping around us. Those stubborn gusts had picked up a multi-chromatic array of leaves and tiny particles of dust, which whipped around making the whole world glitter. Your hands were in your pockets but your eyes never left my face. It was a Saturday and I was chewing my lip, trying to figure out what was playing behind all this silence. Shutting my eyes tightly, I rearranged a mess of thoughts to align our heartbeats. Standing on tiptoes, I felt your breath sweep across my face and our lips meet in the middle. I kept hopin

this probably isn't about youthis probably is about how the sun was on the opposite side of the sky when i woke up this morning. and how my name looks wrong every time i write it until it's gotten to the point that i'm not even sure how to spell it. it's about how everything has been flying out of my control so that i can't remember how to walk without making a sound. or how to hold on to the edges when my vision gets too blurry. this is almost certainly about how you live one and three fourth miles to the north of me, but i forgot and slept facing the south last night so now i just feel like i turned my back on you.

but really, this isn't about you.

it's about how i'v

a chord for every discord.sometimes, i just think
in melodies and every
sad song sounds like you.

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i'm not your symphony but i'm orchestrated anyways

by ~paperheartsyndrome, Nov 26, 2012, 9:01:38 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

it's not easy to explain --

but i'm a rushed symphony of heartbeats, quick breaths and hiccups. i'm not made of skin and bones, but a complicated sentence structure and thoughts that i spew out before i even finish them.

i'm messy in all the wrong ways.

and i'm not right in any of the ways that matter. but still you're always here, picking me up when i fall, kissing me goodnight, making a life with me one day at a time. and you haven't gone yet but i'm always moving so how long can you stay. how long can i expect it. how long is too long when you're living and loving and breathing and hell, if i can't stay still i'll mess this up for sure. i just need a minute, to think, to stop, to be. so i can be yours forever.

all i know is that i'm a constant frenzy -- a kaleidoscope of words and ideas and minutes and clumsy steps and i don't know what i'm doing, but i'm always shifting and moving and growing and going and going

and going and

going --

until i'm standing still again.

no one can stop me quite like you.

i'm not your symphony but i'm orchestrated anywaysby ~paperheartsyndrome

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

nothing stops my heart quite like you either.

you're everything i need.

~evalily1 Dec 20, 2012

Your words always inspire me. I swear you are one of the best writers on deviantart because you are the only one I have favourited. Keep writing, we'll all keep reading.

Happy Holidays

~paperheartsyndrome Jan 2, 2013 Writer

Awh, wow. Thank you so much. This means so much to me.

I hope you had the happiest and most wonderful of holidays!

*UnspecifiedUnknown Dec 13, 2012 Writer

^{beautiful
i am happy for you}

~paperheartsyndrome Jan 2, 2013 Writer

Thank you so much! times two!

~divergentcollar Nov 26, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

This is grand. Lovely and simple. A love note scrawled upon the edge of a frayed page, by a person waiting in the halls of a subway or train station -returning to that in which they love. Once again this writing style is 'real' because it is raw and alive. More personal. Thank you for sharing c:

~paperheartsyndrome Jan 2, 2013 Writer

Thanks so much!

~divergentcollar Jan 2, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Thank you for sharing with us! C;

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i'm not your symphony but i'm orchestrated anyways

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