The History Unsaid

She has cinnamon for hair and chocolate kisses from freckles.
Her lips pucker with sugar sprinkles and she draws hearts
on the inside of her wrists so they'll rub off on her sleeves.

He has oceans for eyes and sand paper hair. 
His eyelashes are saturated in wishes
and he doesn't close his eyes until he's done saying
all of them, [one by one.]

She has a heart composed of stained-glass windows,
and her thoughts are translated into fairy tales and dreams.
She laughs in melodies manuscripts,
and drowns herself in scents of raspberries and plumbs.

He has a mind of nightmares and jokes,
and his words all get lost in puzzles that fall apart to the touch.
He trusts her,
but she's not sure if he trusts her like she needs him to.




She's looking for someone to rip out the stitches,
because she needs to feel the pain to know she's alive.
And he tells her he can't, because he can't hurt her.

She needs the truth,
and not all of these, "I don't knows" that get embedded underneath
every sentence.



She falls asleep under piles of breathing bones, 
And she takes injections of abstract art.

He counts time like it's all he has left,
And he tastes lightning on the tip of his tongue.

She smiles as he smiles,
and holds on to his hands like he's the world,
and she just wants him to show it all to her.
She just wants him to love her,
And she just wants him to want her
because she's her.

She dies her hair in butterflies,
because she needed a change from the cinnamon.

He soaks his words in apologies,
because he needed a change from the pain.

She dreams of white and light
and flowers and gowns
and perfection and him.

She dreams of forever,
mornings - waking up next to his face,
and nights - kiss him
goodbye.

But she's too practical,
and all of the pretenses are holding her back.


But she wants to be able to be with him
for the rest of infinity,
and she thinks he wants it too. 
She can't be promised things that have already been used though,
because she's an original - and that's what she expects.



She likes daydreams and cute things.
She likes to be reminded that she's loved.

He gets love notes and truth.
He gets devotion and uncertainty.

She just wants to reach inside the universe and pull out the answer,
She wants to look through the clouds and find the melted rainbow
draped in between her fingers. 
She just wants to know that every day of the rest of her life
is going to be okay,
because she'll spend it with him,
and it won't ever change. 

She feels the blush in her citrus eyes.

He hears her words in her veins.

Soon this will all just be history,
but if she's learned anything in class, history is repeated.





And while she lays in his arms,
that's all she can ever hope for.