Story Time

He tells me stories
He tells me stories of love and laughter
He tells me stories about singing duets
He tells me stories of our long embraces
He tells me stories 
He tells me stories of children laughing
What will they look like me or you?
He tells me stories about dinner dates

He tells me stories of I love you's every day
He tells me stories
And I believe them

He tells me stories of traveling the world
He tells me stories of our hair going gray
He tells me stories of long walks even if they are slowing down
He tells me stories
He tells me stories of singing and dancing in the rain even if we are bad at it
He tells me stories of our adventures and how we will always be young at heart even when it stops beating.
He tells me stories
And i believe them.

Ways we are human>> even though i am not entirely convinced

I have my own thoughts.. My own voice.. I am special in the rude way... I love to explore... i hold technology in my hand... connect with people... Ya Right!! I HATE TEXTING. i was never meant to be a robot like so many humans have adapted to becoming. i have climbed mountains, discovered things, and continue to learn.. i have told lies... i am human.

Dig a little deaper

The world is OBVIOUSLY spinning too fast because
I
am always dizzy.
I
keep crashing because my eyes are fixed on the rearview mirror.
I
know what love is. crazy i know. but i am absolutely sure of it.
I
am affraid of pain (not physical but mental/emotional) and heart break because as much as people say you get used to it.. with me i guess its different because the pain just gets worse..
I
care more each time.
 I
love harder every day.
I
might end up an emotional wreck but i want to express myself through writing
so here is my heart... it might still be beating.

Lets color outside of the lines

crayons>>

I wish that i could go back to being a child and knowing that i was right about everything even if i wasn't. I knew right from wrong a lot better then. I could say anything on my mind without giving it a second thought. I miss my vulnerability. I miss laughing so hard about silly things. I miss the innocence and how then i was actually hilarious. I miss how my imagination used to be my beliefs. I want my crayons back...