guns are all the harsh words we neglected to say.

in response to this poem that i found inspiring: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/if-love-is-a-weapon-what-are-guns/ it's possibly unfinished. 7/26/10.

i can offer you the words on my lips
and the heart on my sleeve.
i can be funny.
i can make you laugh until you cry,
if you have terrible humor.
i can't paint but i love to draw,
and even though i don't do it well
i like to think of it as charming.
i can sing to you from center stage,
if someone will just lend me a mic.

tragedy is written on my hip and
above my elbow, and up and down my arms
if you look hard enough.
on my ribs, too, but i plan to cover that
with ink.
sometimes you'll see it in my eyes,
if you look hard enough,
but i don't like to let people that close.
pessimism makes me lose naivety but
i always stay true to my optimistic ways.
i'm something of a dreamer, i suppose.
i cherish my good things.
i think a little too much sometimes.

i know i'm special,
but that's not always a good thing.
and i'm so very far from average.
i like extremes and touching ledges
but fear holds me back from
biting, rather than just barking.
i'm so very complicated,
and difficult doesn't begin to cover it.
but i'll let you love me to the ends of the earth.

and for you,
maybe i'll just love you, too.
if you let me.
if i let myself.
my trust is a a little caged bird,
and for you, she wants to sing.