TK

yours, yours are lovely
they're so pretty (for lack of a more masculine adjective)
they are so observant
and so caring,
and i can see the softness in them.
they often won't hold mine for long,
but when they do,
their gaze gives me butterflies.
and my stomach turns to knots.
and my heart skip-skips a beat.

dying

you told me, once,
that my death scares you more than your own
what you don't understand:
i start dying when you stop living
so live, and you won't need to worry about my death.

patience

you might need to wait a while.
these things take time, you know.
but you'll grow while you wait.
you will. you'll see.

the side of the fence

the grass is greenest here,
when i'm with you

how dare you

don't think about me, if you won't let me dream about you.
do not dream of me, if i can't think of you.

don't think or dream.
before you tell me not to.

this one for the way your lips
though barely moving
can still say everything i cannot

more love

i love loving the unloved and unlovable.

love

i'm afraid to love again
because what if i no longer
can love unconditionally..

what then??

don't mess with my heart;
i've gotten protective.

not clique

people like you,
people like me,
they're rare.

few and far between.

but they do exist.
i'm proof.
you're proof.


and sometimes,
once in a few blue moons,

they meet.
we meet.

and we click.

тебе

я тебя найду
я к тебе приду
ты только жди
не сдавайся
и держись

its hard

losing friends
to time.

it is an unbeatable
champion opponent

i find solace in words
in anonymity
in writing

so i have this

DZ

yours are interesting.
they do not seem comfortable holding
anyone's gaze for more than a second.
they are also very shifty,
and they look like they are trying desperately
to hide  something.
and they seem a bit hurt [past tense]
and vulnerable.


they make me sympathetic.

IB

yours are strange.
they look vacant to me
sometimes almost dead.
everything about you reminds me
of an overgrown six year old.
and not in a good way.
everything you do annoys me.

RS

yours remind me of a small child
they are so bright and curious
and huge. big and always shining
they make me think of innocence

cornea, lens, retina

your eyes say so much about you
i love looking at them, into them,
and studying them.

i will tell you
all
what i think of them.

here.
right here.

try???

i've tried.
and tried some more.
i have tried and tried.
i am so sick of trying.

and yet i will try
once again.

i will intercede

your eyes don't shine like they did
"im like an open book" you say
but its difficult to miss
when a friend once smiled so readily
and now it's almost like a chore.

memo

and i cant remember what i wanted to say

and i cant remember what i needed to do

and i cant remember what i had to get to

all i remember is that it was important

puncture

i was told today
"you have those piercing eyes"

i will never see my eyes
the way others do.
only through mirrors.

i am not sure why

i find myself attracted to the outcasts.
the broken.
the sad.
the hurting.
the hardened.
the depressed.
the friendless.
the unloved.
the paranoid.
the ex-addicts.
the ex-prisoners.
the ex-criminals.
the stone hearted.
the ones who rarely smile.
the ones with unreadable eyes.
the ones who won't look me in the eye.
the ones with pain hidden beneath invincibility.
the ones with tenderness behind tough skin.

the ones nobody wants to talk to.
nobody wants to have anything to do with.
those are the ones who catch my interest
and they intrigue me.
and they capture my heart.
and i love them.

until they begin to like me.
and show their own attraction.

feelins

i feel neglected,
so forgotten and alone.
and my smile's not contagious
and my eyes don't shine like they once shone.

or sit

can't stand them

yet cannot tell them

for fear.

this

this one for the way your eyes
are like a rushing river
consuming me