My poetry can’t find you now With miles away from each other I struggle to find some peace within the storm There’s one coming, the type of storm that we used to love Cuddled together by the window, a movie on the screen The place I want to be is now a memory Not a place

she thought I was a wreck. i walked into her life like a little hurricane in a rush. making no sense. she said i was young. she said i was wrong. she loved me anyway. jude said i was the one after one or two boys she knew. one was jake, the other paul, and i was the third-but somehow-the one. jude had me wrapped around her fingers. she didn't take a song and madeit better. but she got into my heart and she made it sweeter.

let me have you while you drink tea chase you when you are not here smell you before sleep hug you tight by the sink let me have you while you here while you are real while you breathe the wants and needs of love guided by the light of you flows into me

pensei em te ligar um dia desses, ligar no telefone mesmo — tenho anotado até hoje o seu número — não ligo se tua mãe atende, ou teu irmão. trim trim telefone tem modo silencioso? não sei, te ligo e nesse meu devaneio adolescente tardio tu atendes e me diz um oi baixo, oi de quem acabou de acordar. tô passando aí, eu digo, e repito. fica pronto. me espera. trim trim.

o sol entra sem pedir permissão sua mão encosta na minha embaixo da mesa em segredo, enrosco meus pés em sua perna não sei pedir, não uso palavras deixo a minha mão te dizer que te quero muito e meus pés que te deixo ir

João, com sua barba por fazer Somou 1 mais 1 que deu dois Fácil, extremamente fácil, como disse Jota Quest Banda que seria o equivalente do Maroon 5 aqui no Brasil Luisa, assim com s Soube que João considerava 1 mais 1 algo simples Luisa sentou-se em sua poltrona terapêutica Contou que Matemática nunca foi seu forte, em prantos Mas que de música pop entendia muito bem

checked the clock one more time it is still early evening it's summer and I am still here cold water, sandy feet sweaty kisses by the sea poor unqualified rhyme was written by me

there, where the blues meet water and air ocean and sky is where I want to be

broken pieces of glass sitting on an empty floor like small little flowers made of transparent goo your hand on mine after every hello and goodbyes broken glasses on the floor reminds of you shattered, damaged with not enough glue to stick it all together back to what it was before