Dear Him,
I hope someone terrifies you.

I hope you have nightmares
That wake you up
Screaming.

I hope that you won’t be able
To wear clothes
Without thinking twice.

I hope that standing next to men
Gives you
A panic attack.

I hope you’re always
Afraid of seeing
The person from your nightmares
Behind you.

I hope people ask you
What you did to deserve it.

I hope your loved ones
Call you a liar.

I hope you cry when you finally tell your mom
After years of silently living with it.

I hope you blame yourself.

But,
I hope it never
Actually happens to you.

I hope you never
Have to live through
The ****,
The molesting,
The groping...
None of it.

I hope no one ever does to you
What you did to us.

Because no one,
NO
ONE,
deserves that.

Your eyes look like salt water,
I'll shake it with ice,
And pour it in a clouded glass,
And down it in one swallow.

I'm feeling self destructive,
Want to do it with me?

Your hair is soft
And familiar to my finger tips,
So it will feel at home,
Between my fingers,
Rolled in lit paper.

Sometimes
It feels like we're just a
Bad habit.

But it's probably just anxiety
Again.

“It looks deep,”
I said, face turned up to the sky
Looking so high
I thought I would float away.
You held my hand,
And paced up and down the driveway
Trying to see every star and planet
Above us.
You were giddy in that way you get
When curiosity
Has taken over
Your body.

Two falling stars
Faded into the darkness
Like a deep sigh,
I pointed them out to you
Moments too late.

Two wishes,
All to myself.

And both of them were
Something beautiful and secret
About you.

We were all supposed
To stay young forever,
And high school was
Never supposed to end.

So darling,
In the moments
You turn around
And catch me staring at you
Wide eyed,
Know that I’m drinking you up.
Carefully filing everything you do in my memory
So I can pull it out
On lonely walks in the park and down the street,
So I can think of you
On cold nights laying in bed.
Because it won’t last,
But I want to remember
Every second.

I thought we could be
Maybe I thought
Happy

Home smelled
Like ginger
And cheap liquor.

Like stir fry
And dish soap.

Home smelled
Like saw dust
And cotton yarn.

Like night time showers
And cups of herbal tea.

Home smelled
Like three different fall candles
All lit at once,
And bleach.

Home smelled
Like soy sauce
And garlic.

What was it she used to say?
Like a Chinese
Grocery store..?

Home smelled
Like Warm Vanilla Sugar
And Endless Weekend.

Like pumpkin spice
And stroop waffles.

It smelled like paint
And dried flowers.

When I walk in,
It all
Rushes
Back.

Stir fry,
And pumpkin spice,
It fills my nose
And makes me choke.
My head spins
And my stomach
Feels heavy
Inside me.

Home doesn’t have a smell anymore.

Those are now
The smells of yelling,
Of attempted suicide,
Of loneliness,
And betrayal.

Those are the smells
Of sleepless nights,
Of being called a *****,
Of dreading the sound his clunky boots make against the wood floor,
And their laughter.

Home doesn’t have a smell anymore,
Because I don’t have a home anymore.

Lips that had never been chapped
By liquor,
Or seasoned with smoke.
We had everyone to blame
But ourselves.

You had bubble gum pink hair
And a goody-good attitude
With a hidden mean streak.
I had choppy hair I cut myself
And an in your face attitude
With a hidden kind streak.

I rarely told the whole truth
And you were proud of yourself
Whenever you kept a secret
More than a week.

You told me best friends hold hands
By holding pinkies,
But when we got our first tattoos
We gripped each other’s five whole fingers,
Because if you’re going to make a potentially bad decision
You may as well
Do it wholeheartedly.

We walked dogs
And giggled about boy bands
It was nothing too unusual.

But I had a feminist agenda
And you wanted a boy to tell you
What to do.
Your mom always told us
We’d be happy when we have a man
To make the hard decisions,
And I never bought it.
You never objected.

There would be nights
I couldn’t handle
The sound of my phone vibrating
To announce your messages,
and I couldn't handle looking at them,
I worried if I didn't take care of you
that you would fly into a thousand pieces,
your messages were evidence of that.
But sometimes I still needed to sleep,
or breathe,
and I couldn't guarantee those things as your friend.

When the summer turned my nose pink
and brought freckles to the surface of our faces
we shared milkshakes
and giggles about boys.
We wore each other's shoes
and pajama pants,
did each other's makeup,
and wouldn't buy clothes
without checking in
on the other's opinion.

It was all so ordinary,
yet so abnormal
and painful.

In our early twenties
we starting drinking together,
and that quickly became
one of the only things I could do with you.
You didn't want to go out,
or talk,
or anything.
Just go to work,
come home,
drink,
and watch TV.
I had to be a part of that world
if I wanted to be your friend.

I wanted more,
and that's what killed our friendship.
I wanted more than everything
being your way.

I could blame your boyfriend,
because he was more important to you
than I was,
but it isn't his fault.
His only fault was not being able
to handle other people.

If you ever go looking for reasons why,
know I don't hate you.
I remember camping out in tents in your front lawn
and I know that I cannot do anything
but miss some of those memories,
but I needed more,
and less.

More friendship,
less dysfunction.

I didn't know how to rebuild it,
and I tried in all the wrong ways...
but I would've thought
that you'd still be there
if I needed you.

Who would've thought
that I would be the one
to fly apart,
but I did,
and suddenly you weren't there.
You couldn't look me in the eye.
You'd demanded my help for the majority of my life,
but all you could muster the courage to do
was send me a text,
a text that if I read between the lines properly
told me
that I wasn't your problem,
but you wished me well.

I think that's a good way to end it,
you got it right.

You're not my problem anymore,
but I wish you well.

It's late at night,
I dully stare at the pink glow
Of my lamp,
There's a draft under my door,
And some sort of funny ache
In my chest.

The lazy afternoon light
From my murky glass window
Bathed your sleepy smile
On my pillow.
Your calloused hands
Ran
Around my stomach
And my back.
My fingers found a birthmark
On your ribs
I had never noticed.
Our noses touched,
And breath mingled.

My neck aches
From nighttime worries,
There's a funny taste in my mouth
From things I never wanted to say.
The ocean is a kaleidoscope of colorful fish,
And all I want to think of is you.

Your frame shivered
In the chill summer breeze
Rolling off of the lake.
Tiny round sheets of stone
Stuck to my damp toes.
You tended the small fire on the beach
While I hung on your arm and every word.
On the car ride home
We sang our hearts out
To old songs about rock and roll,
And the wind blew my hair dry
And into your face.

The old pictures feel like yesterday.
They're a patchwork quilt
Of moments with you.
It's the kind of lonely
In the pit of my belly
That needs to be shaken
With strong drink.
My mouth it etched in a frown.

I tried to cook for us
The night of our Anniversary,
What normally came easy
Made me apprehensive.
And when the meal went to grief
And I was close to tears,
You marveled at the science
Of how it had happened,
And inspected it closely,
Until you got me to laugh.

My jaw is clenched,
And my brow is knit together
Like a stocking,
But my head knows where it belongs.
On your shoulder,
Held in your hand,
Talking about music,
And space,
And past pain.

It was the smallest hours
Of the morning,
Cuddled up on your bed,
When I dared to touch
A long scar on your lower back.
I asked you where it came from,
You said your father
Had hit you so hard
He'd left it.
I was quiet.
My angry, protective whisper
Covered the lump in my throat,
As I promised I would
Never
Hurt you like that.
You said you knew that already,
And you'd never told anyone that story
Before me.

You're waltzing through
My thoughts tonight,
And you always danced so beautifully.
Taking my clumsy movements
Into your stride,
And guiding me across the floor
With gentle steadiness.
You're jump roping my brainwaves,
And caressing my consciousness.

How I miss
Your whiskery kisses.

I don't see the dead look
in my mother's eyes
so often anymore,
but I remember it.

I remember her being nothing.

I remember how she would sob,
full
body shaking,
lung-crushing,
sob.

I carry those memories of her.

I'd never been me before,
I don't know who else I've been
But I imagine they'll be wanting
Them self
Back.

So here, have you,
And I hope you're ready
To let me have me,
Because it's been so long now,
And I think it's time to stop
Hiding.

“What if
I go back to who
I was?
What if I’m not as good..?”

You walked in on
The worst moment
Of my life,
While I was lying on a kitchen floor,
With all the pills in the house
Sitting on the counter,
Ready to be taken.
And you chose to walk the path
That led to loving me
Anyway.

If you
Need to be sad,
Or less than yourself
For a while...
If you lose your patience
And need help finding it.
If you get angry,
Or hurt...

I may push you
To be better again,
Just like you’ve pushed me.
But I won’t stop loving you.

I’m not in love
With the perfect version
Of you,
I’m in love with you,
And you have flaws,
And rough days,
Or weeks
Even years.
But I’m here
For the long haul.

As long as
You
Want me,
As long as you love me
More than you love
Your dysfunction,
I will love you too.

We have so many windows.

A grey cement floor,
A bucket, a mop,
My red happy shoes are squeaking
On the damp floor.

Making circles
Of magic mirrors
Around where I stand.
The sunlight reflecting
On the glassy floor
Distorts my vision
And my image in the water

The water and soap
Scrubbing away
Coffee conversations
Of past days,
And mud from boots
That carried the forest in.

There’s a magic in the bubbles
And the water
Dancing with the light,
Becoming one.

We have so many windows.

I read pages and pages
Of my life from years ago,
And the realization
That was so alone
Was so loud.

Two years later,
Some things have changed...
But tonight,
Hell...
Tonight I shouldn’t have been alone,
But I am again.

Yellow city lights,
Streaks of red,
Huffing and puffing
Trucks and buses,
Dripping roof,
Cold sidewalk,
Wearing my happy red shoes.

I’d like to take up the earth
In my hands,
And fold it over like fabric.
Then stitch through the grassy weave
And bring your home
Closer to me.
But though I cannot make that happen
You are only a time travel
Of two hours away.

You can measure it in
Minutes,
Songs,
Miles,
Hot beverages
And scenery,
I’ve even measured it in rain,
The space between
You and me.

Here I am,
In my small town version of a city,
Sitting on my duffel bag,
Because I’d rather shiver in the outdoors,
And you’re only a matter
Of Beatles albums away.

I’ve become too used to you.
You can’t be my life,
You’re only a person.

My life is my own,
It’s not made of your love.

I must somehow face being alone
And be okay with it.
I have to embrace the nights that you aren’t here.

I have to remember
That when I cry on the bathroom floor
Until I make myself sick
No
One
Is coming.
No
One
Can
Hear
Me.

You told me once,
It was in the middle of winter
And we were driving home
In the truck that belonged to your grandfather
He had just died...
You told me that I was your resting place.
I told you that you are mine.

I don’t know exactly what I’ve become lately,
But it isn’t a resting place any longer.
I take up too much space.

I’ve been terrified of that
since I was a child.
Never having enough space to take up,
Being too much,
Or too little...
I can’t really find an in between.

You can’t be my life,
It isn’t fair.
I have to learn how to be alone again.
How to love my time by myself so much
I don’t want to leave again.

But I tasted what it was to not be lonely.
And I crave it.

You wanted to be friends,
Which made me nervous.
That didn’t stop you.

You wanted to write a poem,
Which made me think I’d look foolish.
That didn’t stand in your way.

I didn’t want you to see the poverty
I lived my life in,
But that didn’t bother you at all.

My family is crazy,
They’ll drive almost anyone away.
They’re not the cute kind of crazy,
They’re the medicated (or should be) kind of crazy,
My sister yelled at you,
That didn’t deter you.

In the middle of sobbing
Shaking
Sobs,
Anxiety attacks,
And insomnia,
You stayed on the phone,
Or with your arms around me.
Every melt down,
Every pain,
You never left.
That never stopped you.

You’ve always fought for me.
It’s my turn now
To fight for you.

‘...To your own bed now, or...”
You kiss my neck.
I’m tangled around you,
With my hand
Underneath your boxers
Caressing your hip.

You whip my hair
Out of my face
And kiss me,
Hard and unwavering.
You squeeze my breast,
And climb on top of me.

I roll you back over and kiss you softly.
“All right.”
We quickly break away from each other.
“I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow,”
“I love you too.”

I pull my pants on,
And lean over your bed
Demanding one last kiss.
You grab me
And pull my body to yours
With ease,
And for a moment we’re tangled up again,
Your leg between mine,
Rubbing,
And thrusting yourself against me.
And I kiss you
long and unrelenting.
Then I pull away,
Whisper
“Sweet dreams,”
And you mutter a like reply.
And I leave.

Yes,
We’re being good.
But,
We’re still having a bit of fun.

His laugh is impish,
His smile devilish,
He seems to have a secret
Behind his eyes.

Musicians have the best hands
After all.

It feels good to have
His eyes on me.
It feels good to look up
At him
And catch him
Looking at me.

One sided
Sideways glances
Are lonely.
To steal a moment
Of drinking in
A person’s humanity,
Catch the laugh,
The nervous chatter,
The awkward adjustment
To his bracelet,
And find him looking back at me
Makes me feel
Alive and present again.

His brief sigh
As the customers all fan out around the bar
Before he launches
Into his traditional speech,
And see him looking at me
Without the same fallacy,
The same false
Flamboyance,
Is an exhale
After holding your breath
Underwater for too long.

To see his body in the night,
To not have to worry
About who else is seeing it,
To just let it be
An art piece on display
For whoever he welcomes,
Me included,
Is so worry free
And calming.

His silver hair
Catches the lowlight.
My youthful skin
Only just of drinking age
Glowing in the night,
And I know
I shouldn’t look at him
The way I do,
But he looks like life.
Like vibrant
Life,
And I thirst for it.
I want his liveliness
To flow through my veins.
I want to wear his smile
On my neck,
Between my *******,
Or my legs...

“It makes me so mad,
Because you’re giving into the daddy issues stereotype.”

It makes me so satisfied,
To just exist
Without consequence.

It was always a joke,
“I couldn’t make it”
Was always just a game,
You were always there anyway,
You always came,
It felt like magic.

You wove your way into my every day life,
You took over the small private comforts
That I used to stay alive,
Teapots,
Work gloves,
Scarves,
Mugs,
You pushed yourself into my existence.

Every time the world was destroying me,
Every time it was too much,
Every time I couldn’t handle it all,
You were suddenly there,
Like magic,
Like my own little miracle.

Please just give me one more tiny miracle...
Don’t do this to me.

You words
Curved into a jar tonight.
Your "I love you" is empty,
Your love is hollow
As a jar
Tonight.

You lied about your past,
you woke up the morning I was gone,
and the past you created
to gain my pity and fear
was wiped clean.
Just graphite on paper.

I didn't get to wake up from mine,
I merely added to the list.

I hate my body.

I hate the curves
And bulges,
I hate the fat
And folds.

I hate the stretch marks
And freckles,
I hate my round plump face,
And my puffy chin.

I hate my short neck,
And my uneven *******,
I hate my fat thighs,
And saggy ***.

I hate my stomach,
And my chubby arms,
I hate my calloused feet,
And my small hands.

But most of all...

I hate not being enough.