ella es.......yo no soy....ella y yo...yo y el
she writes love letters to the weather
grey i love you, always forever.
and she keeps her hair nice and neat.
it smells of greek yogurt and honey
and during the winter her parade of coats escapes.
red, teal and a gorgeous brown.
even though she lives in southern california.
at 68 degrees they escape, roam the streets.
shes at her happiest.
nothing is done.
and she wishes for a man that rules with iron fists.
with a heart that melts at the sound of her soft words.
wants it to melt and run like a tiny little river,
and she'll bathe in it.
someday.
she hopes, because she can.
but she wont
she'll only wish. she will only become better.
a girl that can dream is sometimes a sad affair.
dreams, at their finest mean nothing.
affair.
and she wont hear the word without flinching.
she sighs, those long heavy ones.
the ones that make your heart sink
only by hearing it.
and hearts filled with hope sink faster.
theyre heavy...bear the weight of many opportunities
those seized upon and those missed
they dont float.
she stares.
she writes love letters to the weather,
but pretends, to write names on them.
she personifies the wind. sometimes.
on the good days she writes his name.
she bites a sad sandwich.
amused at the pattern her tiny teeth make on the ham,
like some adorable serrated knife.
she smiles. he would laugh too.
reads a lonely book.
and surprisingly shes whole.
lack of hope.
or an abundance of.
she does what she can with the pieces shes got.
and the ones she cant find, leave her empty.
a mess.
grey i love you, always forever.
and she keeps her hair nice and neat.
it smells of greek yogurt and honey
and during the winter her parade of coats escapes.
red, teal and a gorgeous brown.
even though she lives in southern california.
at 68 degrees they escape, roam the streets.
shes at her happiest.
nothing is done.
and she wishes for a man that rules with iron fists.
with a heart that melts at the sound of her soft words.
wants it to melt and run like a tiny little river,
and she'll bathe in it.
someday.
she hopes, because she can.
but she wont
she'll only wish. she will only become better.
a girl that can dream is sometimes a sad affair.
dreams, at their finest mean nothing.
affair.
and she wont hear the word without flinching.
she sighs, those long heavy ones.
the ones that make your heart sink
only by hearing it.
and hearts filled with hope sink faster.
theyre heavy...bear the weight of many opportunities
those seized upon and those missed
they dont float.
she stares.
she writes love letters to the weather,
but pretends, to write names on them.
she personifies the wind. sometimes.
on the good days she writes his name.
she bites a sad sandwich.
amused at the pattern her tiny teeth make on the ham,
like some adorable serrated knife.
she smiles. he would laugh too.
reads a lonely book.
and surprisingly shes whole.
lack of hope.
or an abundance of.
she does what she can with the pieces shes got.
and the ones she cant find, leave her empty.
a mess.