All These Things

(this was written a while ago. The last time I had it really bad. Try to read aloud if possible)

If I could kiss away your sadness,
With all my heart,
With my soul
And with a grinding of hips,
I would snog a big smile across your lips.

If I could catch your tears,
I would collect them in cups,
With a Blue Peter bonanza
Of cotton wool and eggs,
I would water and dote
On a thousand cress heads.
With concentration,
A million felts tips,
With creased brow
And a childish tongue sticking out through my lips,
I would create a green haired army
Stretching a mile
If it would make your day,
If it would make you smile.

If I could take my hope,
I would build him wings,
Made from tea towels and matchsticks,
Bound together with string.
He would fly across this town and across this night,
Past chimneys through clouds,
To a room,
To find you,
Sleeping tucked tight.

And he would kiss every single sleeping sighing frown away.

He would gently hook your hair behind your ear
And ward off dreams
darkened by loss and fear.
He would chase the nightmares away,
Back under the bed,
And whisper warm words
And when alls done and said,
Even through the distance of sleep,
Knowing his ache will never wake you,
Even though hopes hopeless,
He would love you still.

All these things I’d do,
If only I could.

Like if I could make you love me.

If I could make you love me.

If I could make you love me.

I would.

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