Under A Cork Tree

In love with an idea.

I let you break my walls
Because you built my heart.

I didn’t think that I would grow so much before I started to end up where I am, but here I am and there you are (and you are so far away).
I didn’t think I would be so tired.
Here is exhausting, and it’s not my fault. It’s no one’s fault.
It’s tiring not to know the streets I’m walking, and I’m terrified whenever someone confuses me with somebody who knows where they are and asks for directions.
I never thought I’d grow into a place and now I’m scared to be away from home. I didn’t ask to be damp around the edges, the worn dishcloth you throw into the back of the cupboard to dry.
I am warm and I am soft and I am going to fray to the core if I don’t inch my way back to the spot on the shelf where I belong.

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.

—Plato (via michaellottner)

My Girl

When nothing was real
When not a thing mattered
When hearts were still growing
When everything shattered
We met in the winter
We grew towards the summer
I knew for some reason-
you weren’t like any other
I knew that I felt it
I couldn’t describe
The feeling I felt when I looked in your eyes
As we got older
It did not subside
My feeling grew stronger
It kept me alive
Later on you admitted
You felt that way too
You began to ignore me
I lost hold of you
I knew we had something
I knew it was strong
I never cared
That the world said it was “wrong”
…I guess you did
You wanted to belong
Our something is over. But the problem is not