but now that I've found you
and you're millions of miles away
it hurts worse

come home

I will write poems about you
memorize your Starbucks order
(even if it's different each season)
ill hold your hand
play with your hair as you rest in my lap

I just want our love to be soft
something safe and warm
we can both crawl into
like hot cocoa after a snowstorm

You pointed out
all my favorite love stories begin in hatred
an offhand comment about the books and shows
I consume like air

I realized there's nothing I want more
then for someone to see me for my worst
pick apart every negative attribute

yet still promise to love me
all of me

I do not want someone "brave enough"
to love me
to tear their way through my heart
to leave the wreckage they pass through
worse than before

I want someone soft
to take their time
to notice me in the corner
to silently help me tidy up

to tuck me in bed next to them
with nothing but a "good job" and my kiss
on their lips

when I tell my mom I feel sick
the first thing she does
is kiss my forehead to see if I have a fever
and
I just feel like
there's a metaphor there somewhere

there is a time and a place in which I am entirely and completely loved. in which my demons have been quieted and my mornings are soft. I will be safe. I will love and be loved without questioning.
I will create my own paradise.

once upon a time
you were the moon to my stars
which is to say, you didn't know
how to shine without dimming me in the process

and yes, you sat me in your lap to feed me off your fork
but then, you always had a way of presenting scraps as
a reward

and presentation is everything, right?
no, you never truly left me bleeding
instead, my heart and mind were carefully extrapolated
blended together until they looked like the color of your eyes,
and gently poured back in place

how do you know which pieces go where?
how can I know without you?

there was always a darkness in him.
the light that she so easily shone,
disappeared in the black hole cut in the
middle of his chest.

he never gave it back

you told me I don't have to be okay all the time
you told me you still loved me no matter what

its hard because I want to believe you
god, I want to trust it so badly

but every time I've put the walls down
lay down my defense

the only thing i've been left with is
ash in the wake

i knew you were toxic
i knew you weren't good
but you understood me
and
that scares me
what if that means
i'm like you

I think in a small way, I always knew it was you
you've always taken care of me quietly
told me difficult truths
surprised me with my favorite drink
(you memorized my order)
because you knew I was sad before I even
told you
you make me want to be a better person
I am a better person because of you
I like myself better with you

i could build a cathedral

out of all the words i

want to wrap you in and

kiss upon your lips


i could construct villages

out of all the hopes i

keep sacredly out of

reach


i could fill a mausoleum

with all the promises

i have received with open arms

only for them to leave me

just as those who gifted them


i could write cities and forests

and galaxies into existence

using only the words that

come to mind when i hear your voice

or when i feel the gentle comfort of

your breath intermixing with mine

when our universes are only a few

heartbeats away from colliding


i could build a life with you

and that’s what leaves me speechless

I've never had the privilege to be
the main character
never enough for a leading role

always bleeding plain red
instead of magic

I am sitting in a pool of my own confliction
wondering if losing you
is worth gaining the love I desperately crave

I've spent so long
debating on taking the leap that
I haven't noticed the water
has reached my mouth

now I am drowning
and unable to say anything at all

There are some things
not to be said, like
"i'm tired of having to explain myself to you"
and
"i'm happier now that you're gone"

.1. you will sing songs of sunflowers and the rainy afternoon glow of a summer evening, you will burn incense and keep flowers on every dresser in the house

.2. you’ll hum love songs and ponder the inevitable happily ever after, you’ll imagine what falling asleep to the rhythm of their breath feels like. it feels like home.

.3. you will see mundane tasks like grocery shopping become haunted by the thoughts of them, the daydream of picking out tea together keeps the smile lingering long enough for the cashier to notice

.4. you’ll see them talking with someone else, watch the history of their relationship trace back far further than yours ever could. your breath catches. you didn’t realize how wonderful it could be to be invisible until this very moment in time

.5. reality settles in for the night and you are kept awake by the realizations of your faults, your chest contracts with the thought of someone else listening to the poetry of their heartbeat, every name pulled from their lips in passing conversation becomes a death sentence

.6. you will convince yourself you’re okay. that however close they may be to anyone else that you have a connection, a spark, that can’t be replicated and how could you ever be so foolish to think that it could fall flat in the face of others

.7. with the passing days you will become increasingly irritable with anyone and everyone that reminds you that you are not the one nor the only in their life

.8. you will tell yourself to let go, you will list all the reasons they wouldn’t be good for you.

.9. somehow the list remains empty

.10. you will eventually remove them from your life. slowly, but surely. your pillows will collect your tears like precious gems. hearing their name restarts the process

.11. you will move on with time. you will put new flowers in the old vases, crush the dead petals into a jar of potpourri. you will smile with sadness and memories at the scent of it. you will be glad you knew them. you will be glad they are happy now.

.12. you will be happy again. I promise.

the sadness
is back again
i don't know why
it just seems like every time
i get better
or
i move forward
the world tilts
and all of a sudden
i am no longer running away
i am running into the darkness
always running
and i'm tired
so tired

and maybe one day
someone will see the broken pieces i’ve
managed to glue back into
a heart and they
will admire the stained glass

brush over the unfinished bits and
call me a work of art

there is a way to feel no hurt
there is a way for their words to lose
the sting

there is a way to die by no others hand
but your own

the birds are flying backwards
(you and I are still together)
the fish swim on land
(you unpack your bags)
the attic is below ground
(you walk into my room)
the sky is red
(you tell me you always loved me)
the grass is gray
(you tell me you still do)

someday i too, will
be nothing more than
a faded memory

nothing more than a
name on the tip of your
tongue or
a brief second glance
in a shop-store window

and although i knew
this was ill-fated
at conception

still, i needed to love you,
needed to know i tried my
best to make you feel

anything

and the worst part of it all is
I almost loved you

I was a breath away

and I'm terrified

i was weightless
adrift in the shark-infested
ocean of my thoughts

the bell rang,
everyone around me began
collecting their belongings
and moving on

i was frozen. stuck in
whirlpools. struggling to keep
my head above water.

the tables emptied, new faces
poured into the halls
something was blocking the
light

when i finally found my way
back to shore
i looked up and it was you,
heroic, with your lifeline
outlined by the sun

you stood by the doorway smiling.
books in hand, waiting for me

"you coming?"

there is a soft emptiness in
my bones
and i still
don't quite know what's supposed to
fill it
but your smile
and laugh
and
heartbeat
seem to pour into my
hollow chest
too quickly
and take up
entirely
too much space

you've read books and poems ever since you were too small to reach the countertops without a step-stool. you were immersed in the worlds and philosophy of others far before you knew what that meant. this is a good thing. because of this, you've always known the right words to say, what to do in a situation because of what you've read in this book or that poem. you have become an author without ever putting words on the page. the characters look to you to see what they will do next. it has become your responsibility to fix their problems and smooth out their character arcs. but being an author is lonely. because while everyone is worrying over the characters in the story, no one ever asks the author if they're okay. if they need help with the weight of hundreds of universes sitting atop their shoulders, no, the author is fine. even if their hands go numb and the pencil splinters their fingertips. the author will see it through to the end.

I have this backpack

every time I want to cry
or scream or yell
I take the feeling and I place it in a jar
and I zip it up in my backpack

its amazing really, how many jars
this one bag can hold

see, I've never emptied it or
even set it down because
I'm afraid if it leaves my shoulders
everything will spill out
and all the jars I've sealed
will break open and I'll hear it  

I have this backpack
and its getting heavy
so heavy

the soft evening light
illuminated your face
and the longer i looked
the more certain i became
that
there has never been
and could never be
anyone
as utterly mesmerizing
as you

you noticed.

if nothing else,
if we will never be more
than the faint wonderings
of what could have been.

even if this is as far as the story goes,
at least once, just once,

I was seen

I like to freeze moments in time
take a step back, and notice all the details
so that hopefully, when we're old and gray
and barely remember our own names

I can still close my eyes and see
the plants in your living room
the $8 bottle of wine on the coffee table
the dinosaur blanket we shared
the pain in my stomach from all our laughter

and the way I was the happiest I'd ever been

I know it seems kind of silly
but I want you to know
I feel safe enough to fall asleep
on the couch next to you

it doesn't seem like much
but really
its the only language I have
to tell you how much you mean to me

i guess i knew when i realized no matter how far i strayed, how hard i ran away, you always found me. bloodied and battered, hiding under some cheap excuse. you would pull me out, and gently clean me up. tell me how i knew better as you patched my wounds. brushed the hair out of my eyes as you told me all that really mattered was how i was okay. no matter how many times i repeated the process, you never lost the gentleness in your touch. the love in your words. the sigh of relief at finding me, broken and bruised. and the expert way in which you put me back together every time. it was once i realized you had held each part of me in your own hands, in its purest and most shattered form, allowed them to scrape your palms as you held them still tighter. and you still loved me all the better for it. i guess i knew once i realized you weren't going to leave. no matter how many times i made us both bleed in the process, i suppose i knew because no matter how hard i tried to convince you to leave, you stayed.

yet the days stopped turning to night
ever stretching
everpresent
I just wanted the sky to fade

and when i tell you
about how my day was
in its entirety and go off
on an entire tangent on
the one guy with the orange
(because it was the funniest thing)
and describe all the stupid details

what i’m trying to say is
i miss you a little too much
and i wish you were here
with me today to see the
one guy with the oranges
(because it’s not that funny
unless you were there)

what i’m trying to say is
that i’m scared of taking up
too much of anyone’s time
so i’m really scared that
you’re just annoyed with me
because any of your time is
more than i ever wanted

what i’m trying to say is
(you are special to me)

what i’m trying to say is
(i want you to know you are
special to me)

what i’m trying to say is
(i love you)

She wrote poetry
though not like most
she used no ink or pen
but nonetheless she wrote
lines of crimson
red that stained
she wrote until her heart was drained
The sliver of hope
the light she held dear
was stuck inside
along with her fear
she tried to reach it
tried to find
some small trace it left behind
she carved
she searched
until red lines
defined her worth

and i really wish you never kissed me
or showed me your favorite movies

i wish you didnt call me when you were drunk
and chatty

what am i supposed to do with all these
parts of you

How can I put them down

you built me a castle
beach front- no less
with seashells for doors
and driftwood for a flag
but it was too close to shore
the waves beat it down until
it swept away
and we laughed

this time though,
I drowned

I suppose it says something
I feel comfortable enough
safe enough
to fall asleep on the couch
because I know you're beside me
and
I suppose it says something
you pay attention enough
notice enough
to make up an excuse
and drive me home
even though you wanted to stay
even though I told you to stay

you wanted to drive me home