I wanted you to care so badly about me that I forgot to care about myself.

How is it that you still continue to care less, and continuing to care for you is something I can't even help?

I could love your soul until you're 90 and wrinkled.
I could kiss as your fingertips and plant stars in them, then watch you paint the sky.
I could find you crying alone and I'd still think you're cute, snot and everything.
I could show you my life and where I've been, what I've seen and who I've met.
I could take a walk on your side and see you past cracks and crevices where tribulations and heart ache made their marks.
I could dip my toe into your pool of affection, then dive right.
I could swim the sea of blankets and sighs until you're begging.
I could push your buttons and then undo them on your shirt once we make up.
I could learn the curves of your mind and the twists in your thoughts, and understand what's going on inside of your head.
I could make you laugh so hard, either at my expense or maybe your own, that you cry. I promise I'll at least try.
I could hold you when it's cold and when your heart plays along.
I could support you when and where you need it- $5, a shoulder to lean on, someone to drag you to bed when you're too drunk.
I could find you in a crowded room and still think you're as beautiful as ever compared to anyone I'll ever meet.

I could be that for you, I most definitely could.

I touched skin I used to know and tasted lips I used to crave.

Little did I know that letting you back in simply meant my backbone had caved.

I used to think you couldn't love me as much as I needed,
But you did when you told me to leave and find someone else who would do the things you couldn't.

Love isn't always blatant or obvious, it isn't always being together and "I love you".

Losing you felt a lot like lost love,
But I suppose it just meant you loved me enough to not let me wait for you when you knew you couldn't be what I needed.

Thank you, I love you too.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy from unrequited love,
Or from love letters with "return to sender" staining the front in dark, black ink over your own meticulously crafted words.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy from holding onto lost causes,
And too full from tears and whispered curses when you're holding yourself at 2 am.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy when you lose someone else's,
Or when you see them walking down the street hand in and hand with another and you might just hold your own so that you don't feel too lonesome.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy with the weight of the world
And everything you've ever felt too strongly about.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy with regret or hatred
Towards anyone who did you wrong and left you heavy hearted in the first place.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy-
It'll weigh you down to the notion that you can't reopen it once the incisions have healed.

Make sure your heart isn't so heavy
That you fall to it's weight and forget what it means to be light.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy-
It'll lift you in more ways than one.

I write poems for boys who don't even respond to my texts.

I rip my heart in half for people who see a pathway and walk through like it was meant for them to tread and leave their footprints.

I open my mouth to pour out affection and you keep yours in a thin line that does not even budge when I tell you I just want to be with you.

I lose sleep over someone who rolls over the thought of me naked but not the thought of how I look when I'm contemplating or surprised or even belligerently, stupidly angry.

I put trust in you and you boomerang it back, dented and fraying while you tuck yours into your back pocket and save it for someone else.

I carve out time for someone who carves out time within the free time and spare seconds rather than simply making time in the first place.

I write poems about boys who can't even respond to my texts but read them anyway so I'll read my poems and you read my texts and one day maybe you'll wake up with a hollow feeling in your heart and it'll feel that way because by then I'll have stopped writing you, texting and trusting and yearning for your fingertips to trace my lips and your thoughts to coincide with mine and have you want to be inside my head so much it burns and maybe in between my sheets even more.

Mmm wishin I was sleeping under the stars in someone's arms and living in the now, not in my math class or my empty bedroom or my part time job. I'm wishin I was driving down the coast where the ocean is as vast as the possibilities ahead of me. I'm hopin I'll wake up in a new city with a camera and suitable walking shoes so I can meander and document my days the way they should be. Really just hopin to break the cycle and find myself so engrossed with travel and bliss and love for what's happening in the moment and embracing it for what it is. I'm needin the sunshine and skinny dipping by moonlight and reading big books under trees and singing my favorite songs with a big, real smile on my face. I'm wishin the woods could be my home and the stars could be my map to happiness and your hands could teach me a thing or two. I want to kiss the sunsets and chase them down and wake up the next day to endless opportunities and sheer appreciation for what I'm afforded- a new, fresh day to experience and be present and learn, grow and understand this eccentric and ever-changing world that somehow stole my heart before anyone else could.