I tried to write a poem for you.
I tried to put it in words.
but the only thing I can think to say is

I love you. and
Thank you.

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 could never just let things go.

always digging up the graves
of past conflicts laid to rest.

always picking at the scabs,
making sure they left a scar.

I never wanted to forget

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

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

but sometimes, darkness is the only one who holds me
how am I to turn back on the only thing
that has never run away?
the only one who
sat up with me through the night
patiently waiting for the sky to break

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

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

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?

eventually the lightning fades
the sky turns back to gray and there was
never a thing to worry about at all

When I was younger, I never understood
the concept of "retail therapy"

I just didn't get how people
could reason that a new outfit
or gadget would fix their issues
or calm their broken heart

I thought that it was kind of ridiculous,
to be honest.

But this new sweater almost feels like
you, and I take it all back now.

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

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?"

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

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

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 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

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 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

so scraped my bleeding heart from my shirtsleeve
it fell to the ground and i saw you
your laugh
your heartbeat
your gentle smile as you broke my heart
this is not fair
i should get to be mad at you.
i can't be mad at you
because even in shattering all i had built in us  

you did it perfectly.

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

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

.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.

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

its getting bad again
I don't know what time it is
I don't know what day it is
I don't know anything beyond these covers
and the
Undone assignments
Unread texts
Unused lifelines

keep piling up

so badly I wish to be poetic
I drink my tea in the moonlight
take evening strolls in the rain

I bring a tattered notepad with me
to the café
to the museums
I choose my words so carefully

But I'm sitting alone,
at three in the morning
writing this "poem"

and I don't feel poetic at all

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.