You speak as though
You've lived a thousand lives
All filled with loss
Let me remind you
It doesn't have to be
A thousand and one

If you asked me to describe how I know God answers prayers
I would point you in the direction of honeybees

Because nobody so unassuming, with so monumental an impact, can come from any source other than divine

For is it not the place of the bee to buzz by plants and people, taking pieces of each to the next?

I see the still pollinated goodbyes of every former flower in your honeybee helloes

And honey, if your hello is an answered prayer, consider me cross contaminated

It is not until your petals have gone without pollen that you appreciate the sweet nectar of their presence

Hello honeybee

Stay as long as you need, then perhaps a little longer

Our visit to your playground makes children of us both

The unspoken hurt holds heavy
On my tired timid tongue

Look, I'm not saying we have to get married
But maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if we did
All im saying is, we live in an age of marvels
When super heroes dominate silver screens and cell phones alike
And everybody knows by now, a super hero needs a good origin story
And we would make a good origin story
I mean, really think about it for a minute here
I'm an alien person from another planet
And you're the greatest this one offers
I was struck by lightning and got super powers
And you're the reason why. You're the lightning.
I fell backwards into a vat of dangerous chemicals
You fished me out by my shoelaces and hung me on your clothesline smile
Galactus, world-eater, I swallowed my feelings whole like planets
And you had the courage to tell me to go on a diet
Which is to say, I talked about my feelings and you only laughed three times
Which is to say, I told you that vat of chemicals was actually my brain and you didn't laugh at all
Which is to say, my super vision failed to foresee your arrival
Don't be mistaken, this isn't a love poem, more like a list
1. You can trust me with your secret identity, the one nobody else knows about
2. My super villains aren't actually real people
3. But if they were they'd kidnap me to get to you instead
4. Whosoever holds this hammer, if she be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor
4a. And you're definitely worthy
4b. No really you are
4c. Please notice me
5. I'd be good to you
BANG! BOOM! POW! I wear it like a speech bubble headband
Like each of us, our origin story would be a little... off-brand
So, I'm not saying we have to get married
But maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if we did

The thing I hate the most about anxiety
Is its ability to turn anything into a weapon
Haunted house attraction. Hall of mirrors.
Warping what you see into something else
That curious fear in being aware of the fact
What's in front of you is not real
But looking on anyway

Awake
I can feel myself falling
Into old habits and new people
A too-long torturous "What if?"
That leaves a tightness in my chest
And an emptiness in the words
Of these few poetic adjourns
Til that elusive sleep returns

There is a silence to be heard
When at our loudest
There is a word to be shared
When at our quietest
There is a poem to be written
When at both

If nothing else, take comfort in the rhyme
"The world is ending", was said the last time

I dream about how we would conquer jungle gyms and grocery stores.
Anything, an adventure in how not to grow up and instead grow in.
It hurts to wake.

In my life I have learned 10 important truths:

1. You can't trust anybody that likes Nickelback because if they willfully listen to bad music you don't know what other bad life choices they will make

2. If a girl starts a conversation with "I just think its funny how..." you are about to die. I hope you have an eject button or a eulogy prepared, but preferably both

3. If a boy tells you he wants you to meet his family, he is definitely in love with you

4. You're going to experience heartbreak that hurts so bad you can't even get crying right. But just because you're hurt doesn't mean you're a victim and hurting others doesn't make you right

5. Never go to a wedding alone

6. White chocolate is just chocolate that got cold feet about being edible

7. Definitely eat that piece of pie because treat yoself

8. Definitely regret that whole pie later so then you have to treat yourself

9. Realize you are going to be okay

10. Write a really bad poem about it all

It is in the shift of your eye
That I see your mind is elsewhere
It is in the pause of your smile
That I see you're not doing well
For never as sweet is the laughter
Knowing that you're the one who comes after

I daydream about seeing your bedhead

You will want to tell her everything
And you will
But it will be in wordless ways
Passing by, just below the surface
Shallow enough to be just audible
Deep enough to be confused for something else
Faint enough to live in the time between blinks
Real enough, but never quite real enough

Birds chirp outside my window
I guess it is morning now
What was once the call of dawn
Is now the daunt of dusk

The weight of almost thoughts sink my legs into the Earth

While the almost words balloon red in my cheeks and ears

Because this ****** Doo quicksand ***** at my torso but not any more than my desire to go under

I'm going to a doctor soon, or a counselor, or a friendly stranger, or whatever, and I worry about the verdict to be passed over my head

Like the pills they prescribe will meet in combat the almost thoughts that turn my brain to a battlefield that just wants to go home but already is

Like my serotonin vocal cords that softly saunter siren songs should be given a megaphone to tell all the almost words that their echo chambers just got nuked from orbit

The fingers that send daily update texts are the same ones that want to let go of the steering wheel, not because I want to die, but because I don't want to be the one responsible for hurting you

So I'll bludgeon the sand with my two left feet until I turn it into enough glass to build a shade-stained stairwell back into my regularly scheduled programming

"I'm not there yet", I say
"Ah, but almost", I think

People are composed of little bits we can not do not see
Bits in baskets handed out, these are the bits that make up me
I don't know what you'll do with em, but I want to trust
Mine in exchange for yours, my stardust for your stardust
A fair and even trade, an open sentence plea
Please be good to the parts you can not do not see

In the city that never sleeps
It is rare to find a place of rest
Green tree sways, sun sky sweeps
Bird bench beat in a concrete chest
For it is my big apple alibi
To learn to love the passersby

Perhaps the greatest measure of beauty
Is in nature unimpeded, a freedom to be

Take for one, what the white winged dove sings
I don't wish to cage or make mine its wings

Merely draw it near and profit from its song
When again the dreaded silence comes along

I met you
I loved you
I left you
(Or, more accurately, you left me)

But if the devil is in the details
And a picture is worth a thousand words
Then I've got enough reasons to say

I met you
I loved you
I left you

You were a moon once
Tidal force your specialty
You have since gone dark

Leaves dart and dance like my heart beats
Slowly fluttering into life for brief, mad escapes
Before resting again, only alive when nobody is watching
Fading light spills over my face like a nervous waiter
And that's okay

I have stared long enough at my ceiling that I confuse it with the back of my eyelids

I have named each of the tree branch textured constellations found there

My point is, I do not know how to talk about the rabbit hole without tumbling down it

If there were any paint left to dry, the blanks fired from my eyes would make for the most curious graffiti

The word restless comes to mind, but it erroneously implies that being asleep is the same thing as feeling comfortable when alone

I have fallen deep into the back of my head

My eyes, a distant stained glass window, casting the rainbow bridge back to where I need to be

This is the way

You tell stories of your past. Am I yet one?

Autumn coolly glides on the coat tails of whistled winds and trees shedding summer coats
She says she doesn't like peanut butter
Unaware of the basket of PB&J lying on the table
Does she change colors too?

I avoid my emotions like they're landmines
And I'm wearing lead filled clown shoes
Like it's a train barreling down on one lover
Or five strangers - and I have to pick
Like I just found out the brakes were cut
And I don't want to scare the others because it'd be rude
Like I said I would never go back there again
But I did

Happiness is a hummingbird we define our value by the ability to hold onto
Swallowed whole, stored in between the bars of your rib cage
You hold happiness like "Watch me fly"
But no amount of sugar water words can keep it down
It was never yours to take

You walk like a doomsday bunker grew feet
Climbed into your clothes like a hazmat suit
Deciding to brave that scary thing called outside

You talk like a river shapes rock
Repeating the same set of words
Until they feel smooth in the mouth

You write like your ink is honey
Savored by those few you share it with
Because they don't care where it comes from

Infatuation
Or maybe an infection
I am stuck on you

I play a game of hypotheses.
I am winning.

The star speckled ceiling asks,
"How will you know?"

I answer,
"Her grocery lists will win Pulitzers - a novel I can't help but read in one sitting."

The constellation laughs uneasily, knowing that it will move before I do.

The tree topped curtain creaks,
"What will you say?"

I answer,
"Too much, never enough, probably both - your mystery is the only one worth solving."

The canopy bristles. I do not know what to make of it.

I play a game of hypotheses.
I await the next question.

If you should love me
You will learn the meaning of
What it is to live

There is an ideal bench under the sign at the end of my street
It seems a peaceful spot, with its deep color and curve
As I pass it daily, I imagine sitting there, lost in thought
About who has wronged me, and how I'd hurt them back
About how the snow of my youth has lost its shape to ice
About how I now find benches at the end of streets to be ideal
But most of all, I imagine sitting there, public made private
The ability to transform the space I occupy into my own
Free of the tectonic worry that I should not be in this place
There is an ideal bench under the sign at the end of my street
It seems a peaceful spot, with its deep color and curve
I will sit there in a day to come, and in peace, observe

I lie awake having conversations in my head that will never happen
Weeks of practice - winning the most absurd arguments
About how much better old cartoons are compared to new ones
About what I would say if I was ever in a rap battle
About why I care about you so much
About when I will next make you laugh
About how I can't say any of this

You asked about my past, asking about the 'real me'
Beyond the security blanket called humor I drape myself in
And I wanted so badly to tell you my story
I'd practiced every tangent it could have taken
We stood, however briefly, before the abyss of admission
It dared me to leap and I laughed

For it was, of all things, the fear of getting ahead of myself that kept me from moving
Do not confuse the adrenaline of the jump with that of the quickened heart of unspoken love
Do not wield your words like cannons ready to fire at the first opportunity
Remember, that is the lesson you have learned

You asked about my past
I said, "Yes. I have known heartbreak, loneliness and loss, but I will do everything that I can so you do not."
And it was the truth
Well, the most important one

I like to play a game of tick tack toes in your too small snow shoes

You like to play a game where you pretend not to love it

I like to pretend like we dont know how to turn these couch cushions into Schrodinger's box

You and I together - at once both alive to each other and dead to the world

Snowflakes and eyelids both fall softly as we re-watch, for the third time, your favorite sitcom

Your fingers sign syllables with mine that we have a long season ahead of us

We trade in Snapchat paintings and passing glances
In bad jokes, good ideas and texting trances
Buzz. Swipe. Type. Send. A closed-loop circuit
And profits good cuz it's an oddball's market
But both exchange rates and people change overnight
So just enjoy the time while you've got it, right?

You are my resting state of being, my napkin doodle
The one I'll think about when I'm asked
"Have you ever been in love before?"
The one who dared mountains to move
And the earth to reshape itself
That I might be with you
A long-haired, short-fused firecracker
Who brought rainbow noise
To a most dismal place

Tombstones tell tall tales if you know how to listen
Stories marked by the ignorance of 'death is not here for me yet'
Billboards of birth and final breath
Anything exists in the hyphen
The too long but never long enough pause before the end

You stupid, stubborn boy
You thin lipped, thick skinned, too tall trouble maker
You brain broken record, record, record romantic
You can not live between the lines of her words

Just because vowels and vegetables both start with v, doesn't mean that she is healthy for you

Just because you know how to read her hieroglyphs, doesn't mean that they were meant for you

You can not chase the shape of her echoes into the person you want her to be, like some rosy cheeked run on given a pulse

A pulse, a tick, a drum, a beating

Self administered prescriptions, trying to find her commas in the pauses of others peoples punchlines

Let yourself cool off from the shade of the period that is her loving somebody else

Let yourself know that love is just a word, and twisting words into something beautiful is all you know that you are good at

Wisdom in water
Unceasing and unbothered
By such little things

And what does it mean when the rush of the fall comes with the acceptance that you could - and probably will - crash, but you leap regardless?

And what does it mean when her silence is the second loudest sound after your heartbeat?

And what does it mean when you realize you've never dreamt of having one?

And what does it mean when you have the same dream again and again with different faces?

And what does it mean when her face is the form, and the form is the dream?

And what does it mean when you realize hers is just the latest to fill the form?

And what does it mean when you wish the hurt of the dream over the truth of the day?

In the event you feel tempest tossed
And life's not worth the cost
In the event your words are at a loss
And you begin to think all is lost

In the event you can not comprehend
And question, "Will this ever end?"
In the event you lose your closest friend
And your scars just don't seem to mend

In the event you breathe your last
And fail to accept whats past
In the event your hopes are dashed
And despair is all too vast

Do not any longer foolishly prolong
To seek where it is you truly belong
Instead, sing in life a joyous song
You'll find your troubles can't stay for long

When at last you've reached zen
Know it is only and only then
That no word of tongue or pen
Can ever again cause this happiness to end.

Anger antagonizes and attacks again
Bravery boldly bounds bout brilliance
Compassion casts careful, calculated calm
Disappointment detaches, disconnects, driving defiance
Enthusiasm's exuberance exhausts envy's edge
Fear fleetly fades fury's fated face
Guilt greedily goads gullible grief-stricken
Hope humbles hesitancy, heals heartbroken
Insecurity impatiently imparts invisible ignorance
Joyful jumps jaded jinxed jealousy
Keen kindness keeps kindred known
Loneliness lingers longer lately

I am not a morning person
But I hold fondness for early birds
I love the idea of living in the city
But I also kind of dont
On one hand you have traffic and parking
And on the other, walking and watching

I commute by train in the mornings
I early bird watch the people passing by
Listening to podcasts of her breakfast cereals as I go
At 7:30 I take the B train to her jawline
Before catching the A train cross town to her smile
By 8:15 I wait behind her tongue for her to sing the early bird song of speaking only to me

Speaking only to me, being the only time I feel worth speaking back
Speaking back, I say we should do this again tomorrow
Tomorrow we will walk, and we will watch
Watch as people hustle bustle hurry home
Home is wherever it is that we may be
B train, I must go, I will return in the morning

The rosebud wind tickles my nose
Or maybe it is my allergies
I have missed the touch of spring

I shiver in the streetlight of my final now.

Right now, simultaneously being the last time I wait to sleep,
And the first time I fear its arrival.

It is not that I fear being forgotten.
It is that I fear never doing something worth remembering.

A deathbed is too fragile for the hard truth that the last door closed to me will be my casket.

The streetlight flickers.

Peace with this last present is a timeless question,
And I have given it pieces of me I have yet to give myself.

The streetlight flickers.

It will have to be enough.

I set alarms in the morning
So that I can get in more words
With the version of you
That isn't with him

Sanctuary
Looks a lot like four walls and a bed
Sleepless
Sounds a lot like get out of my head

Promise me you'll get help, okay?

Should your blood ever boil within you
Should the heat leave your extremities
Should your breathing become quickened
Should a nervous sweat bead your face

Should you struggle to get through
Should you stand before Hades
Should you try and fail to defend
Should you feel a disgrace

Promise me you'll get help, okay?