picky little poet

listen to my secrets
to my fears and worries and irrational thoughts
and learn my face so well that you’ll know
when i’m scared.
(even if i can’t say a word.)

and don’t ever call me perfect
(because perfection is almost as scary as eternity).
instead, make me feel like
no matter what i do wrong
you’ll never want anyone else.

s m i l e  s m i l e  s m i l e.
(then i’ll smile too.)

teach me constellations and
wrap your arms around me
(so that i’ll always feel safe).

find me beautiful things
things that are hidden in plain sight
(and don’t laugh at me when i talk in clichés).
find the cutest little bottle of fairy dust or
the most faded old love note carved in a tree or
the prettiest patterns in smoke
and show me, show me, show me.

make me mix tapes
(real mix tapes)
full of all the music that dances
through your head.

show me the best books and
read as much as me
so that we can read together
into the night
(because comfortable silence can be the most soothing thing in the world).

and please
oh, please
smile when i show you something that makes me happy
and take my hand and say
that it makes you happy too
(because sometimes all you need is someone to share things with).

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