It doesn't take a near-death experience for you to realize that you need to live and you need to do it now.

You need to go find what you want, and go get it.

You need to love who you love and tell them, whenever you think about how much you love them.

You need to appreciate the trees and clouds and your car and your parents and your shoes and all of the little things in your life.

You need to be scared sometimes. You need to be on edge and go out of your comfort zone.

You need to love who you are, most importantly take care of yourself. You need to love you.

You need to wake up and understand that you are afforded the privilege to take in air and walk around and be alive and make an impact, even if it's just your exhale that helps keep a tree alive.

You need to know that life is so precious and it's not cliché or romantic. It's the ******* truth and I can't scream about it enough.

I hope to God you don't need death, and not even literal death, to stare you in the eyes for you to realize that someday you'll be dead and only so many people will grieve and mourn and then they'll move on too.

This isn't about challenging death to a stare off. It's about not even needing to see it to know what it means to live. It's not about being fearless and brave.

This is about how I was almost in a car accident and I wasn't. I got lucky.

I couldn't tell you the last time I told my grandma I love her. I hadn't talked to my brothers in 3 days. My best friends would have last heard from me talking about concerts and books. My parents would have only known that I'd gotten on the road to come home from a text I sent. My boyfriend wouldn't have know that I'd bought him a gift from my trip. My ex boyfriend wouldn't have know that I still care about his general well-being though I'll never forget what he said about me. My dance teacher wouldn't have know how I felt about her cryptic comments. So much left unsaid and maybe it would have remained so if I hadn't almost been in a collision on a fast freeway on a Sunday night on my way home from a weekend away.

People die. They leave. They change. Life keeps going.

So don't wait for the car accident, for the heart break, for the illness or misfortune or misunderstanding or accidents or general unawareness to get you. Don't walk around with everything bottled up.

Tell people why you love them, appreciate the trees, take chances, make sure you're happy with who you are, wake up knowing you're afforded an opportunity to live and live large.

I hope to God it doesn't take too bright of head lights and screeching tires to know that life can be gone in seconds. I hope this poem is enough.

Don't think you call me and say,
"I only call people I care about, you know."
I always make time."

Don't think I can take it to heart,
Or trust it,
Or believe it.

You once held my heart
And chose to let it drown
In all of the lies and deceit and waves of lacking respect.

Why didn't you make time
When it mattered?
Why didn't you answer my calls then?

Why do you have to be drunk
Every time you call me,
Why do you have to be so far gone just to speak?

Don't think you can pretend
You never said those things about me;
I forgive you, but oh God I'll never forget.

I don't hold it against you;
I won't let it fall into
My subconscious though.

I know you needed something
To make you feel whole,
Since losing me might have actually hurt.

God forbid you be honest
And admit that losing me wasn't the end of the world,
But at least the end of something.

I know you were not heartbroken,
And that's fine.
You were broken enough to try and break me though.

You don't forget about someone
Calling you physchotic
Or only useful for ***.

You don't forget being degraded
To objectification and being
Small enough to crush by mere lies.

You know for a fact that you cried to me once
On your driveway and said
You'd always be my rock, that you needed me.

Did it taste like metal
When you said you used me for ***?
Did it taste wrong slipping from your lips?

Did it make you feel better?
Did it make you feel stronger,
To lie through lips that once begged to touch mine?

Did those lies help
With letting me slip?
Did they make you realize your character was the one thing slipping out of your hands though?

So when you tell me through a telephone line
That you make time for those you care about,
That you go out of the way for those you appreciate,

Remember I did that for people once too.
So maybe that's why
I never call you.

You dipped your toe hesitantly into the water and pulled it right out.
I was already in, swimming freely as I forgot you were still on the shore.
I'd always taken to skinny dipping over bathing suits. I like the freedom, I like the way my bare skin feels in the water.
I turned around to see you looking out at me on from the shore, a hand over your eyes to shield them from the glaring, blazing sun.
I dipped my head below the water up to my nose, so you could only see my eyes as my hair fanned out over the water.
I could see it in the way you stood there alone- you were unsure. You were scared. The way you fingered at your shorts and the way you moved your hand from shading your eyes to instinctively rubbing at your hairline said it all. You were petrified of diving in like I had.

I used to be like that too.
I used to sit on the shore as the sun scalded my scalp and peppered my shoulders with little brown spots.
I used to dip my toes in and step back, watching the ripples go out in the water from my little interference.
I was afraid that ripple would unstill all of the solidity and security I had in my life.
I was afraid to make a scene, scream with joy as I crashed into the water.
I was afraid to be bare and seen and open to someone else, much less in broad day light.
I was afraid it would make me childish or foolish.
I was afraid to just go for it.
I was so afraid of getting in and feeling the waters chill and feeling insecure and ultimately feeling like I could get left alone there in my bare state, wondering how I could have been so open in the first place.

And one day, I realized diving in head first was the only way to go.
I couldn't live on the banks and only dip in my toes.
I couldn't go my whole life not knowing how to swim.
So one day, I jumped right in.
I screamed with joy.
I laughed as he splashed me and held me under the water and threw me around playfully.
He held me and it felt like something I can't describe.
We swam for some time until I realized I couldn't tread his waters anymore.
It felt like I was fighting to just stay afloat, like I was drowning ten times over.

I cried my own sea when he left.
So I know what it's like to tread this water alone.
I know how ******* scary it is to go underneath for 5 seconds and resurface to unstilled water and empty horizons.
I know how gut wrenching it is to dry yourself off alone and leave just the same.
I know how that can sometimes leave you with  the notion that not only do you not want to swim, but maybe you can't ever do it again.

I can't promise we'll swim together forever.
I can't promise we'll get out together either.
But you will never know if you don't dive in.
So when I watched you dip your toe in, I realized I needed to come get you myself.
Sometimes people can't just jump in.

I walked out of the water and grabbed your hand.
You sheepishly looked down, and I smiled and lifted your chin. I understand what you're feeling, trust me.
I saw the sun catch your eyelashes and make your eyes shine just a big brighter than they usually do.
I rose up on my tip toes and whispered into your ear, "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and jump in. Dive right in and let me show you how to swim. I'll go first, and you can jump into my wake."

I turned and jumped without a second thought.
That's what you do when you're committed.

Maybe wouldn't follow.
Maybe you'd leave.
Maybe you'd scoff at what I'd said.
And that's the catch. Some people will.
But not you.
I resurfaced to catch you momentarily screaming as you hit the water.
I caught your moment of carefree, genuine joy.
You came up, water droplets falling from your hair down your face to return to the water.
Your eyes gave the water a run for it's money, they were so blue and bright I'd thought maybe the sea had met the sun and created them.
You smiled at me and laughed, loudly and heartily.
You swam to me and splashed my face, which made you laugh harder.
My smile must have been too big for my face because you hooked an arm around my waist, our feet lightly kicking each other as we tried to stay afloat.
You kissed my sundried lips and coyly offered,
"So, is this how you prefer to swim?"

Frankly yes, it is my preferred way-
Bare, all in, openly and freely, with little to no inhibitions.
I swim with the notion that I'm being as genuine and bare as I could ever be.
It's the same way I love people.
It's the same way I love you,
And it's how I hope you love me.

Get down on one knee to tie my shoelaces before you get down to propose.
Lead me up a mountain before you have my father lead me down an aisle.
Hold my hand to steady my balance before you hold it as we drive across town.
Show me the world before you give it to me.

There's a lot to see, and I intend on seeing it all.
If you are lucky, maybe I'll want to travel your veins and thoughts and heart as much as I want to travel this world.
Maybe if you come with me, I can see both;

The world around me, and the one I could have with you.

I'm afraid that I'm pouring out all I have for people and like rain you can't return it to a cloud.

I'm afraid someday I'll meet someone who would pour out every last drop and I'll be dry and scarce and unable to see that that person is who I should have waited for.

I'm afraid I'm sometimes pouring over my edges for people who aren't catching anything I spill out, and when I find someone who will I'll be too empty to reciprocate.

I'll be a drought and he'll be a monsoon, and I'm really afraid that no matter how much pouring he may bring, it won't ease the fissures in my dried up foundations where my heart used to be a full, unpredictable ocean sometimes thrashing just to feel and instead would be the sun-cracked desert floor.

I'm afraid all of this pouring will leave me dry and someday someone will wonder if I ever even poured out my soul to anyone to begin with.

I think it speaks volumes that in my half-awake, half-asleep, drowsy state sometime before the sun came up, I instinctively yet firmly planted my lips on whatever part of you was closest to me. It was your shoulder blade, or maybe the back of your neck. I know I woke up and it was the first thing I thought of, and I gripped you close and kissed you hard. For me, it says a lot that you rolled over and held me back in response. We fell back asleep after that, your arm draped over my waist and your breath on my neck.

You could buy me flowers or take me on dates or tell me I'm beautiful and do all of those cliché yet considerate things. I won't think any less of them, and I promise I'll do the same for you. But you can't buy me an instinctual embrace. It was something I just did, and it was something you just did in response. I over analyze a lot, but it meant something for me.

It felt different than flowers and dates and hearing I'm beautiful. It felt safe, it felt like reciprocation. It felt like a simple embrace that simply meant I was in your arms, but I know it's a bit more than that. You may have simply rolled over and wrapped me up in your arms but it wasn't forced or planned or expected like dates and flowers may be. It was natural. Sometimes that's what feeling for someone is, going for it and hoping someone feels for you too. It's knowing that kissing someone is a shot in the dark and you may or may not get kissed back, but you go for it anyway. Sometimes, and hopefully, feeling for someone is natural and easy though telling them may not be.

So rolling over and kissing you was one thing. It was another that you responded. You don't know it, but a hand across my waist and your breath on my neck meant more than the other gestures because this one came to you as easily as blinking or breathing. It was simple like you and insightful like me. It meant that in your half-asleep, half-awake state there was enough instinct to hold me and the simple notion that you did so meant that we share some common ground, as uncommon as that may be; sometimes we wake up wanting to be close to each other, and that's enough for me.

I was somewhere where I was enticed enough that I forgot to call home, I forgot to check social media, I forgot to respond to texts, I forgot I had a different life somewhere else. I forgot that public transportation stresses me out, and I also forgot about how meeting new people can put me on edge. I was somewhere fresh and new, somewhere that made me independent, open, curious and even more so adventurous than I already am. I was somewhere where my eyes shone brighter than the street lamps and sky scrapers. I was somewhere where no one knew me and as cliché as it is, I could be whoever I wanted to be. I was somewhere new, and I could feel it in my bones.

I hope everyone finds a place like that, somewhere that's so encompassing and captivating that wherever you were before seems small and outgrown. I hope everyone wakes up in a place they love someday, in a place they realize they can be and do and say what they want. I hope everyone walks outside and realizes that where you are now doesn't have to be where you'll be forever.

I was somewhere so enticing and beautiful that it made me realize I can be those things too. I hope I end up somewhere where the stars shine as bright as I do, where my love for wherever I may be is as vast as the sky. I'll end up somewhere someday, and I've never been so ready to find my somewhere out there.

Crafting up affection only meant for you,
Pouring it into your hands to only see it
Spill over the sides,
Through the cracks in your fingers like sand.

Pouring my time and energy
Into your hands to watch it
Drop as you uncup your hands
To check your phone, to change the channel.

Pouring a waterfall of kisses
Down your skin
To have you kiss me so lightly
That I don't know if it even happened.

I'm here pouring myself into you,
Pouring out how I feel and
You're letting it all overflow
Without notice that it's pooling around your feet.

I meant it when I said you'd break my heart.
It's already chipping and fraying.
How could it not when you know it's already so?
How could it not when the fray began to unravel before you even tied the last knot?

I meant it when I said I've outgrown home.
My bed feels small, the stars don't shine like they do
Far away from here,
Where no one knows my name.

And I can't help but think that ending us is only
The beginning of me.
It's the start of cutting my ties to anything
Serious and real here.

I promise cutting you loose isn't going to hurt
More than a pin *****.
I am not the one to rip your heart out;
I'll just bruise it slightly.

How could we get started when the end was in sight?
Why did we think it wouldn't hurt?
Why does my bed feel small?
Why do the stars not shine?

You're all I have left here.
I'm done looking for someone to kiss me beneath the stars.
I'm done wanting someone to love me so badly it hurts.
It hurts knowing you won't.

You're all that's really keeping me around.
I'd be gone tomorrow if I could.
I'd slip out my back door
And sleep on the plane as I fly away.

Why does my bed feel small?
Why does my heart yearn for cities?
I realized a guy would never make me feel infinite,
But letting myself go out on my own would.

I used to believe love would fill me up,
That it would pour over my edges onto the floor.
I used to think a commitment and lips on mine
Would somehow make me forget what freedom tastes like.

Freedom tastes nothing like your lips.
It feels like cold city air coming out of them.
It tastes like blood in my mouth
Because I had a sample of freedom and now I want more.

I'm here for now;
This is my home.
But you cant fill me up the way freedom would.
You can't be that for me.

Home is where my heart is.
It is not with you.
I forgot it in a city where no one knows my name.
I forgot it when I realized I didn't need you to say my name anymore

My bed feels small.
Your lips don't taste like freedom.
The stars don't shine as much
Because I'm ready to give them a run for their money.

Into the void, waiting to hear anyone else respond other than my own echo.

I love who I am, and I love myself.

I'm just wondering who else loves me too, and who's willing to shout it back.

They say that just because someone doesn't show affection in the same way you do doesn't mean that they don't care or love you.

I believe it. We can't all be silent lovers, we can't all be screaming it from rooftops either.

I understand it. We're all different people, with differing tactics and ideas of what it means to love and care.

But **** if I don't know any better way to love than to tell someone what they mean to me, to always kiss before I leave and kiss hard, nothing soft and forgetable. I don't know anything better than drunk calls confessing how much I like you, or loud laughs at your stupid puns.

I don't see love in quiet embraces and glances and iridescent, see-through compliments. I don't see it in tolerance. I don't see love in those things.

I see it in 2 am talks when you're tired but hell, maybe I like you more when you're half-asleep in my bed. I see it in scratch marks down my back and hands grabbing at my hips. I see it in consistent, small efforts. What you do every day says a lot more than what you do every once in awhile to me. I see it in the little reminders and notions that I'm on your mind, that I'm someone in your tangled, messy brain.

I need something tangible. I can't love someone with my lips closed unless they're closed by yours in a kiss. I can't love anyone who can't shout it back to me. I can't feel for someone who only feels my skin with his finger tips, and can't make me feel any other way. I can't do that kind of love.

So, everyone shows affection differently. I'll paint it in the sky for you, shout it from rooftops and proclaim it for everyone to hear. I'll write you and kiss you in the rain and make you breakfast and whisper "I love you" when we watch movies and tickle your feet and admire you naked and press you against a wall. I'll tell you you're beautiful. I'll love you with all I have.

If anyone out there loves with all they have, then maybe we could disregard what they say, that everyone shows affection differently, and show it how we know best-

*Loudly, openly, compulsively, whole-heartedly.

I've decided that I will take a shot at 12 am on New Years, though I wouldn't mind your lips and tongue as a chaser after.

You're off in the distance,
Where the fog is thick enough that
You can only see my hand in the air.

It's waving you down,
Telling you to come closer
And be where I am.

As you get closer though,
You notice my hand is waiving
A white flag because I give up.

All I ever wanted was for you
To be closer and I'm sorry it took me
Waving my hands over my head to get you near.

All I ever wanted was effort and
I didn't find what I wanted so rather
I'll wave good bye and drop the white flag in your hands.

You came near because I beckoned you
And I wish you would've came to me
Without me asking.

Take the white flag and remember me by it.
Remember that though you gave up in trying,
I didn't give up in finding someone who won't.

Now that I'm within your grasp, you would reach for anything else but me?

You're a tornado-

You spin madly around and sometimes carry things off with you. People and objects fall into your vortex and spin around madly with you.

You spin yourself dizzy, to the point where standing still sometimes isn't possible because you might have forgotten how.

You hit the earth below you and blaze a trail ahead, leaving your mark wherever you go.

You rustle leaves 100 miles away and send some flying just as far.

Sometimes you feel like a tornado-

You jumble things up and feel like when things hit your path, you run through them and scatter them around.

You spin so fast that no one can slow you down, that you're always spinning on your own and finding someone that could adjust to your spin is one in a million.

You never stop spinning because that how your mind works; it spins day and night, endlessly. You're always spinning new scenarios and thoughts in your turbulent mind.

You feel like you may destroy people you run through, and sometimes they try to tell you to spin a different way or cease to spin at all, and that hurts. They don't understand that if you don't stop spinning, you may just cease to be who you are all together.

When I say you are a tornado, I mean well-

Not everyone looks at a tornado and sees what I see.

People see chaos, destruction, instability.

Sometimes I know you see that in yourself.

Sometimes I see it in you too.

But as a tornado, you have what others don't-

Someday, someone will step into your storm and be your calm.

They won't be afraid of who you are, like you are sometimes of yourself.

They'll see what the luckiest people in your life see in your storm;

Absolute beauty, uniqueness, individuality, empathy.

Not everyone can see the beauty in a storm-

It takes a special eye, and a special kind of person to love you.

Not because you're undeserving, but because you're different than the rest.

You're one of a kind, that's why no storm has the same name.

It's why no storm hits the same ground. Every storm differs, but there are only so many.

So when I say you're a tornado, this is what I imply-

You're scary to some people you're powerful and provoking and interesting.

You will sweep someone away someday.

Someone will look at you like you're the best thing to have hit his life, literally.

Someday, a man will be able to see the beauty in your storm and spin with you, always by your side.

You're a tornado-

You're one hell of a sight,

Unmistakably one of a kind,

Wild, crazy, enticing and beautiful all in your own,

With a storm inside of you that someone is going to find someday, and that person will be dizzy with how different you are, and will ultimately get swept away by you.

I promise.

I miss you a lot
You were the bee's knees my dear
I miss summer too

You're here physically
I see you every day
But I still miss you

I miss our first kiss
I made the first move because
I knew you wouldn't

I miss compliments
And lengthy neighborhood walks
In flip flops and tanks

I miss confessions
2 am meandering
Rain storms happened too

I miss rock jumping
I miss the freefall of jumps
Into the lake's wake

I miss adventures
Roaming around in leisure
We could take our time

I miss how you looked
At me, in the rain that night
The batting cages

I miss the lightening
And the shock that I fell too
I fell hard also

I fell into your
Arms one August night when I
Really needed you

You caught me again
And kissed my forehead at our
At our first concert

We watched a movie
And we left the theater
Entwined, together

You took me to a
Pumpkin patch and let me pick
The perfect pumpkin

You held my hand and
Told me I was beautiful
Your eyes said it all

You held my hand and
Led me out of the second
Concert we went to

You let me rest my
Head on your shoulder on the
Way back to your car

We rode in a truck
You smiled and laughed with me
You looked so lovely

Your arm reached around
My shoulders, and we cuddled
On your couch that night

You waited so long
You're still waiting for me to
Return back to you

I can't remember
Our last kiss, and that's the part
I'm saddest about

Let's stay away from the edge of the bed,
Roll inward toward one another
So that we can stay closer together.

Your chest, my head-
You can just be my lover,
Fitting me better than my favorite sweater.

See, the edge of the bed
Is the diving board for all the things
I'd rather not remember.

Some nights, everything I've never said,
All the mistakes, insecurities, faults ring
Through my mind, lighting an ember

That sets fire to things I'd rather forget.
But I don't want these thoughts to bleed and spread-
I don't want to relive all of those best-forgotten thoughts

Because when my mind lets
The memories roll through my head,
I sincerely wish they would just not.

And I don't have to will the memories away
When you're holding me close
In the middle of the night-

The thoughts don't relay
Because I'm too busy feeling myself doze
Off into your arms, until tomorrow's light-

You're holding me from the edge
Where there is no possible opportunity
For whatever lurks beneath my bed

To resurface and climb up my bed post, perch on a ledge
And jump back into my mind; You're my immunity,
You're what keeps it all from reentering my head.

So your fingertips rolling down my spine
And your soft breaths rolling in and out of your mouth
And your body rolling over, closer to me

Is really a barrier that lets me sleep in peace, I've come to find;
I don't have any doubt
That you make me feel as safe as I could be.

I tied your hands behind your back
In so many different ways.

One day, as I laced them together
At the small of your back,

You smirked and asked,
"What is this all about, exactly?"

The coy smile on your face
Didn't transfer to mine.

You felt this was a game,
Maybe a new "thing" I wanted to try.

Very seriously,
I prompted you and said,

"Touch me."

You looked across the room, dumbfounded,
As if I had asked you to fly or walk on water.

You looked down,
Fingered the rope around your wrists,

Looked back up into my eyes
And responded with,

"But how?
You tied my hands up."

I saw the puzzlement in your eyes,
As you tried to comprehend why I'd ask you

To try and touch me
With your hands behind your back.

I said it once more-
"Touch me."

You then looked at me like I was stupid,
Like I was out of my mind.

"Look, you tied my hands up.
Can't you see there is no way for me to touch you?",

You stated, matter-of-factly, to the point
Where I knew you would never understand.

I slowly backed away,
And began to turn,

But not before I looked over my shoulder
And said,

*"You don't always need your hands to touch someone,
And if that's the only way you know how to touch a person,
Then I'd rather you not touch me at all."

If you love me like I'm leaving, I won't go.
If you love me like I'll be here forever, you've already lost me.

If you love me like I'm irreplaceable, I'll take to you with the same respect.
If you love me like you do all the rest, I'll step down so you can make your rounds

If you love me like I'm almost close enough to touch, I'll move in closer.
If you love me with a heavy arm around my shoulders, I'll fall to the weight and sink.

If you love me like I'm all you can see within a 100 mile radius, I'll zoom in on you and won't let your gaze go.
If your eyes wander and roam, I'll do just the same-

For I have no time for anything that isn't breathtaking, capturing, engrossing, daunting, exhilarating or exciting.

I'm not asking for perfection, meticulously crafted love and endless adoration.

I'm asking for a fight, for a consistent effort. I'm asking for you to not give up when you already have me.

If you love me like you don't have me, I'll be yours.
If you love me like you have me, I surely will never be so.

There are so many times I want to tell you I'm sorry for taking so long to find you.

There are so many different reasons why I meandered down all the wrong routes in a long maze that somehow led to you.

There are so many different ways I've written about you, so many different ways I've yet to make you pen to paper, ink upon lines.

There are so many different things running trough my mind when you slowly lean in to kiss me-

Like if I had known how you kiss, maybe I'd have found you sooner,

Or if I had known you were so understanding, I wouldn't have put that to the test,

Or even if I'd known someday I wouldn't have every day to be with you,

Maybe I would have found you sooner.

But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere until I have to.

I know this will end. We have an expiration date, a "Best Used By" stamp, a date set for when we have to say good by but that's okay.

Because I'm here now.

And I know my youth is a factor, the idea that we can't get too attached because of age and circumstance but I like you, and for so many different reasons.

There are so many different reasons why I'm happy to look at you and know you're mine,

Even if it's just for now.

I heard somewhere that beautiful things never last,

And that's why fireflies flash-

It must be the sparkle in your eyes when you laugh,

Or the way your smile lights up your face.

Those things don't last forever either,

But I might remember them for that long because there were so many times I didn't get to tell you these things.

There were so many times I wanted to cup your face in my hands and kiss you.

So I am sorry it took me so long to be here, to be within your grasp-

But I'm here now.

We are just a flash in the grand scheme of things,

But I think we're one hell of a flash regardless-

Like fireworks illuminating the night sky,

Like the North star shining more than any other, guiding people home.

If I would have known you would be a light in my life,

Maybe I would have found you sooner.

Beds;
I imagine how you'd pin me to one and kiss my eyelids to my kneecaps, the length of my body as your hands hold mine in place.

Chairs;
You could sit on one, and I'd straddle you while pushing your hair back and nibbling on your earlobe, feeling your hands become firmer upon the small of my back.

Tables and desks;
I sit upon them and you scoop me up into your arms, my legs wrapping around you as your lips mold to my neck and I tilt my head back.

Dressers;
Press me up against one as you peel off your clothing that just won't make it back into the drawers because we're too busy folding our hands around waists and necks, too busy tasting lust and angst as your lips touch mine.

Couches;
Spoon me on one and draw circles along my hip bones and I'll roll my fingers down your inner thigh, pull me closer and bury your face into the crook of my neck.

Stairs;
Kiss me up them, tentatively feeling our way around the banisters and walls so we can continue interlocking lips as we climb towards the bedroom.

There are boys that cry,
There are girls who have dry eyes.

There are boys that dance or play volleyball,
There are girls that wrestle or play football.

There are boys who drive VW Bugs,
There are girls that drive trucks.

There are boys that bake,
There are girls that shred.

There are boys that like the Notebook,
There are girls that like Transformers.

There are boys that are romantics at heart, looking for love,
There are girls that aren't into flowers or love songs.

There are boys with hair to their knees,
There are girls with shaved heads.

There are boys with diaries and journals full of memories,
There are girls who have no desire to write down all the details.

There are boys with names like Aubry,
There are girls with names like Sam.

There are boys with insecurities about their bodies,
There are girls who don't weigh themselves ever.

There are boys with eating disorders,
There are girls who work out for the ideal 6 pack.

There are boys that prep endlessly for a date,
There are girls who take 5 minutes to get out the door.

There are tidy, neat boys,
There are messy, whirlwind girls.

There are boys in dresses,
There are girls in baggy jeans and a pullover.

There are boys who shop endlessly,
There are girls who can't stand the mall.

There are boys that talk about their emotions,
There are girls who would rather not.

There are boys that look after the kids,
There are girls that work full-time.

There are boys who are nurses,
There are girls who are engineers.

There are boys who cook,
There are girls that change the oil in the car.

There are boys who are complacent and subordinate,
There are girls who are dominant and overpowering.

There are boys with no desire to get it in on the first date,
And there are some girls who wouldn't mind if they do.


And those are all okay. Gender stereotyping only limits what you can and can't do. Let the boys cry and write poetry and eat chocolate when they're sad and talk about their feelings. Let the girls be aggressive and wrestle their buddies and play ball and drive sports cars. Let people do as they please. You're born as you a are, you can't decide what gender you are. You can decide what you do with your gender though, or rather what it won't keep you from doing. Your gender is only an aspect of who you are, don't let it dictate your actions to appease a society that has deemed what is and is not okay for you to do simply because you're either a guy or girl.

There are boys and girls that can grow up to be what they please, do as they wish and speak as they will. Don't be the one to tell them otherwise.

I just want to wake up where you are.

When we watch TV
And your hand is placed
On my knee,
Drawing lazy circles

With your finger tips,
I'm looking over at you and
Examining the outline of your lips,
The way they part when you exhale

And the way they're thin
And small and especially divine
When they crack into a grin.
I'd rather they find mine.

I like looking at you
When you aren't looking at me
Because I've always thought your profile
Is so very lovely.

I enjoy the way you look
When you're focused on the TV-
You're natural, comfortable, at ease
And as captivating as you'll ever be.

It's the way you laugh, the way your eyes light up and your lips part into a smile.

It's the way you randomly squeeze me tighter for just a second, whether it be my hand or my frame is a hug.

It's the way you tense up and exhale when my lips find your earlobe.

It's the way you look before you kiss me.

It's the way you trace circles along my skin in quiet moments.

It's the way you fall asleep next to me, spooning me from behind.

It's the way you wake up on the other side of the bed, with messy hair and quick arms to pull me back into you.

It's the way you focus on the television, even if my lips are all over you.

It's the way you randomly bring me chocolate, or when I had flowers on my doorstep when my best friend left.

It's the way you don't read what I write, because now I can make a gift out of it.

It's the way you leave me writing about you nearly every day regardless.

It's the way you're practical and level headed, though you can be silly and goofy too.

It the way you squirm when I lightly roll my fingers along your sides, across your abdomen.

It's the way you pin my hands above my head when you kiss me.

It's the way you kiss my neck, my chest, my hands and my lips. It's very much just the way you kiss me.

It's the way you told me you loved me when you were drunk.

It's the way you use your wits- I expect nothing less than a sarcastic or cryptic comment from you.

It's the way you're bright, you're naturally smart and inclined to succeed.

It's the way you involve me in your passions.

It's the way you don't involve me in our own plans- I usually don't know what's going on.

It's the way you keep busy, how well-rounded you are.

It's the way you leave me wanting more.

It's the way you show me you love me more than you tell me.

It's the way you listen to my stories, even if I'm telling you the story twice.

It's the way you make this easy- I don't have doubts, I don't have to question how you feel.

It's the way you let me move at my own pace, the way you were always so patient.

It's the way you gave me a second chance, and I can't thank you enough for it.

It's always been the way you say good night.

It's the way you are with me, and I love that.

Seriously can't stress it enough, just tell people how you feel about them. It's hard and it's scary and it's daunting to open up but Jesus what is the point in feeling for someone if you can't tell them? Who cares if you look like a **** fool telling someone how you feel, you'd be even more foolish to not say a thing. People leave, they die, or things fizzle out; it happens. It's pessimistic  but that's realistic; it's life.

One of my favorite lyrics is from Ron Pope- "Beautiful things never last, that's why fireflies flash." It's so true. Moments and people come and go and if you feel for someone just tell them then. I don't want to have someone feel something for me and just let it sit in his or her mind, I want to know about it. So if you love someone say something. If you hate someone, say something. If you're thankful, if you're annoyed, if you're happy, if you're devastated, if you're unsure- say something.

It's such a cliché but life is very honestly too short to keep quiet when your heart is thumping so loudly in your **** chest because you're too nervous to open your mouth to tell someone what they mean to you. Tell people. Write to people. Do something about your feelings. We feel and letting your feelings slip under the radar, to me, is a shame. I know we all express ourselves differently but for crying out loud at least let people know what they mean to you, because someday you may not be able to and you may wish you had said something. You know what's scarier than opening up? Leaving things unsaid, leaving your feelings to your own heart and mind, letting people go unnoticed and unappreciated or uninformed. That's scarier than opening up your mouth to say something about your feelings.

Love is not a thing you can do half way;

Love is not meant for quick hugs to say goodbye,
Momentary kisses that leave you wondering if they even happened.

Love is not meant for people who will hold your hand
Loosely enough that it could slip away.

Love is not meant for routines and order,
For ease and expected encounters.

Love is not meant for ******* one night
And not speaking the next.

It is not meant for anyone who decides that
A kiss doesn't mean anything,

That a lingering look has no power,
That skin on skin is just a physical encounter.

No.

Love is holding someone's hand tightly,
As if it were a balloon on a string that's

Tied to your heart, and God forbid
You let that one slip away.

Love is for the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th goodbye kiss
In the street as you leave your lover's house.

It's for the 5th kiss that leaves you as breathless as the first,
For the last kiss that was the longest and hardest.

Love is for spontaneity,
For random reminders that you care.

Love is for someone who will love you in between sheets,
Then kiss you the next day despite your morning breath.

Love is the shout into the void,
Into the canyons of people

Where the only response you may have
Is the echo of your own love.

That's love, shouting about it
Even though you may be the only one to hear it.

Love is for people willing to shout it from rooftops,
For people willing to dive in head first.

Love isn't meant to be half assed.
It just isn't.

Love requires all of your courage and strength,
Your patience and understanding.

Love requires that you shed your shell of comfort,
And give it your all.

That's how I love,
All in and wholly invested, completely committed.

And I don't have time any love that isn't aching,
Consuming and invasive of my every thought.

I don't have room in my heart for anything less than extraordinary,
Because my heart is full to the brim of love for someone out there,

And I don't want it just to spill over so that
I can listen to it drip onto a cement floor.

It should pool into your hands instead,
And you can pour it into your own heart.

Love is for the brave and willing-
I'm brave and willing enough to show you,

Are you?

I didn't see us coming-
I didn't see us falling asleep side by side
And waking up to fingertips rolling
Down my spine like the chills do
When your lips find the crook of my neck.

I didn't see you putting it all
On the line so I could try to love you
Once more and do it well;
I didn't see you ever being selfless enough
To open back up to me.

I didn't see me writing poem after poem,
Stanza after stanza about you and
The way you make me feel so safe and
Comfortable, as if we were just supposed
to be, be here together.

Just like us, I don't have to force any lines or words;
They flow, they come to me easily
And I have to write about you
Because that's what I do about people
I feel for, for people that occupy my mind.

I didn't see myself wearing your sweaters to bed.
I didn't see myself wanting to be yours
So badly that it took some liquid courage
To muster up the strength in my muscles
To walk to you and kiss you on that summer night.

I didn't see you for who you really were
Until now, now that I've seen you bare and in my bed,
And in my every **** thought because that's
What happens when you don't see it coming;
It hits you like a ******* train,

And it's the best kind of hit
When you're smacked in the face with the fact that
Someone out there loves you in all the places
You couldn't love yourself, in all of the crevices
Of your body and soul.

It smacks you in the face and then you realize
That it's perfect. He's perfect.
And the only thing I could see coming
Was the fact that I'm leaving,
And losing all of this will hit just as hard, just as deep.

I didn't see us coming,
Not even if you gave me binoculars and a map
So I could have found us out there on the horizon;
Just as the sun sets on the horizon,
We will set too.

I didn't see you being a sunrise
To illuminate my cloudy skies.
I didn't see you being a sunset
That leaves me left alone
In the darkness once again.

I just didn't see us going out like that.

Today, I found beauty in hairy arms and a receding hairline.

My substitute for my English Literature class was a man. His name is Danny. He's short and a little fidgety, gesticulating with every word he speaks. His voice is moderately deep, strong and clear. He's attentive, though his fidgetiness makes him seem a bit scatter brained. His white t-shirt with a few buttons on the top and brown pants were rather plain. Rather, his attire was practical. Alongside his 5 o'clock shadow and glasses, he's average. He's your average middle-aged man, subbing an American Literature class.

But he isn't average. He's passionate. He knows what he's talking about. He's descriptive, knowledgeable, well-rounded. He's excited to examine and read and understand literature. He's genuinely excited to unearth the underlying meanings of our most recent readings. You can tell in his spazzy hand movements when he gets excited, or when he pushes his hair back and readjusts his glasses when he's in the middle of a thought. You can see it in his thoroughness of his explanations.  He's engaging- he talks to and with us, not at us. He loves his job, he loves his work, and it's very apparent.

So Danny is beautiful. I think he is beautiful because of his passion. It caught my attention and it has me hooked. For this first time this semester, I want to go to this class because I know he'll be there, eager to explain the reading and ask us what we think about it too.

People, I beg of you to be like Danny- find what you love, immerse yourself into it. Your passion for your work will flow out of you and captivate you to your core. When you're that invested, it becomes infectious. Others will be captivated and immersed as well, even if it is more so in you than it is in your passion. Passionate people are alluring and captivating. I think that's beautiful, more so than other things a person could be. It's beautiful to be so passionate about something that you exude and live it, almost as if your passion were the air you breathe.

Everything she wants is in her favorite things. It's in the songs she sings, the photos she reblogs, the movies she sees- she wants the tender, lengthy kisses she sees in films. She knows better than to expect it, but by God does she want it. The songs about adoration and indefinite love, about thinking she's a sight and lovely and beautiful, maybe even overwhelming and frightening- she wants it.

I want it. I want a mind-blowing love. And I want to hear about it. I don't want a silent lover; I want someone to yell about it from rooftops and sky scrapers to loud cities below.

I want a man who isn't afraid to tell me how he feels because he's afraid of losing me in the first place. I try to be this for others and I hope someday a man walks into my life and says, "My turn."

I know love isn't easy or picture perfect or always pretty, alluring or needed. But I love with my whole **** heart. I lay it out on the floor in your path to see if you'll run away, step on it, scoot around it or maybe pick it up and hand it back, saying, "Lay it down for someone else."

I want a man who will write the songs so they can be the soundtrack to our cinema of love and growth and adoration. It seems cliché, corny, unrealistic. Like a dream, like a fantasy. But why settle for an ordinary love? I want an out-of-this-world love that keeps me on my toes, keeps me with my wits, and keeps me alive. I want it to make my blood pump through my veins, I want it to make my blood boil. I want it in my veins, my eyes, my skin, my finger tips and *****. I want a man who lays his heart down in front of me, and asks for a trade.

She wants a love like the movies and songs. So, go give her a love that puts those **** movies and songs to shame. Kiss her as the sun comes up, kiss her as it sets. Hollow out her curves with your lips, kiss her where she likes herself least. Hold her. Remind her what she means to you, because she knows she's amazing and she won't wait for someone who doesn't show her that she is.

She is the song, the movie, the moment- now go sing of her, act alongside her, be alive with her. Do it. Just ******* do it. Love her with every ounce of your being, every molecule, because she's putting every fiber of her being into this and nothing more would light her up more than you loving her as much as she loves you.

I forget to look before I fall-
As if I haven't any cares,
None at all.

I forget to ask if I'll be caught
By someone below,
Though more often than not

Someone forgets to be below,
And I fall upon my back,
All alone.

I lie on my back, wondering how
No one could have caught me.
I've fallen aplenty, so now

I always look before I fall
Because the smack of me hitting the ground
Has such a sad, resounding call.

I'm forgetting how to fall into thin air
Because waiting around for you
Is wasted time; you simply will not care.

I always forget to look before I fall-
Now I know better, so instead
I walk away, and rather I stand tall.

I'm taller than the trees,
And skyscrapers too-
Like these things, I do not fall with ease.

I do not look before I fall
Because I won't fall anymore,
Not again, never at all.

He's forgetful-
He forgets where he put his shoes,
Or where he set down his sunglasses.

He forgets our plans at times,
He forgets what time we were
Supposed to meet, sometimes where.

He forgets that he has a little piece of food
On the corner of his mouth,
And he won't notice until I mention it.

He forgets his shifts at work,
And sometimes even forgets to take
A picture of his schedule in the first place.

He forgets some of the stories I tell him,
Maybe because I tell so many-
Regardless, he's forgotten a few here and there.

His forgetfulness drives me crazy,
Considering I won't forget how
Maddening this tendency is-

Him forgetting plans and times
And dates and places and where
He placed an item is indeed irksome at times.

But he never forgets to tell me goodnight.
He always turns over his shoulder and says
Goodnight earnestly, genuinely.

He never forgot about the time we drove
Around in the back of a truck,
When we drove along a windy road and

We laughed and locked eyes.
It was then that I decided
I didn't want to ever forget who he was.

He didn't forget that I love
Dark chocolate and letters,
That I love the little things.

He won't forget how much I love music,
And how I'd more than willing attend
Just about any concert with him.

He never forgets about the
Particular blanket I like the most
When we hole up at home and watch TV for hours.

Sometimes he doesn't forget my stories,
And is sure to remind me
When I start telling one twice.

He never forgets to grab my hand
When it's idly by my side;
He never forgets to squeeze my hand before letting go.

He never forgets to tell me good night,
He never forgets to tell me he cares,
He never forgets to tell me I'm beautiful.

He never forgets what's really important,
And neither do I,
So I forget about his forgetfulness.

Rather, I remember that his forgetfulness
Is so trivial in the grand scheme of things,
And though he is forgetful,

*He's never once forgotten to say good night.

Missing people comes in like the tide-
Sometimes, it's so far out that if
I stand far enough away on the shore,
There's no way it can even touch me.

Other times, it's so high that
No matter how many times I step back,
The tide follows and gets closer and closer
Until it swallows my ankles, sending my feet to sink in the sand.

You're far out like a low tide,
Seemingly blending with the horizon-
You're only a sunset fading
Away into the night sky.

Missing you is high tide,
Like the waves engulfing every inch
Of the shore, the same way missing you
Engulfs my heart sometimes.

I think every woman wants to be
Looked at like she's a piece of artwork,
Whether it be when she's first waking up,
Or when her body is scarcely covered by a sheet.

I think a woman is a piece of art
Worthy of a longing stare
From across a hall,
Or from her love across a bed.

Not to objectify,
But a woman's body is indeed lovely from
The curve of her spine
To the backs of her knees, to the way her hair falls.

I think every woman wants to be adored
By her love, man or woman,
Whether she's conscious of it
Or not.

Look at your love the way
You want to be looked at;
Like she's a piece of artwork
That doesn't sit in a museum,

But rather within your own reach,
Close enough to see her eyes light up,
Close enough to grasp her
Because unlike in museums,

She's a piece of art that you can finally look at and touch.

Attempt to replace the way
I'd make you feel between the sheets,
Or the way I could feel you without
Even touching your skin.

Attempt to forget how
I'd cling to your body as
You made love to me
At 1 in the afternoon,

As we would attempt to make what we felt
Tangible by my hands gripping your thighs,
Your lips speckling my neck with kisses,
Our bodies intertwining to merge together.

Attempt to remember the way
I'd stare at you, getting dressed
And wondering how I could have
Let you leave bed in the first place.

I'd attempt to fight every urge
To pull you back into bed,
To trace your contours and curves-
I wanted to hang of your body like your clothing instead.

Attempt to find someone who
Will lay with you after and
Stroke the small of your back
While you catch your breath.

Attempt to love someone
Who will love you beyond
The bed sheets and closed doors-
I at least tried to.

I like my men like I like my tea;
Strong and hot.

But not the hot that has attraction
And *** appeal written all over,

With those "come and get me"
Eyes and glances that leave women half naked in beds.

No, the kind of hot that when I
Ingest his words and thoughts

My soul becomes warm and
Open, warming the rest of me too.

He runs through me, creating an ember-like
Current to jolt me in all the right ways.

He lights a fire in me when he laughs and contemplates;
It's the most welcoming heat I've come to know.

It's like the first warm day of spring
After an endless winter of chill and ice.

His strength, though, need not be
In his arms or calves or thighs-

His strength can come from him
Opening up his world so I can

Enter and see him behind his skin,
Behind his skull so I can see his mind

For the beautiful thing it is.
His strength can be found

When he remains around despite
My insecurities and woes.

His strength is found when he holds me up
From my own tribulations so I can

Learn what it's like to come
From the bottom up.

His strength resides in his hands when
They pull me closer in the middle of the night-

He pulls me closer, and I can hear his heartbeat.
It always makes mine beat a second faster.

His strength rests in his heart when he handed it
Over to me and said, "Here, have this."

He warms me on cold nights,
And keeps me awake during some too.

I'd have him as the sun rises,
And even as is trades off with the moon.

Though a cliché indeed,
I could simply say that he's my perfect cup of tea.

I'm sitting in the room full of mirrors,
Trying to find the real you;
You're everywhere I turn,
But the illusions aren't true.

There's only one of you,
And this I know;
Every magnified imagine of you
Has me spinning, to and 'fro.

I'm in a house of mirrors
Just trying to sort this out;
I'm trying to identify which is the real you
So that I don't live with any doubt

Of who you really are,
And what you believe in, what you stand for-
The 100 extra images of you
Leave me wanting to find not you, but the door.

The house of mirror never led me
To finding the real you;
I eventually just saw my own reflection,
And from there on I knew-

I projected all of my problems
Onto your reflection rather than my own;
I'm always flawed to my core,
So around the house of mirrors, I'll roam,

Consistently surrounded by
Me, myself and I;
I've come to find
She's the only one who stays by my side.

I thought maybe for once
That the problem wasn't me,
Though I was proved wrong
Because it'll refer back to what I see

When I'm in a house of mirrors,
Trying to find your demise
And I only see myself in the end-
This came as no surprise.

The house of mirrors
Became my home,
And there's always a chance to see myself,
Though I'd rather just be left alone.

Time is of the essence,
Just waiting to teach the lesson
Of why good things don't last
And end up in the past.

Time is ticking on by,
Strapped to the wall, it's all going to fly
Right past us if we don't stop to think
That maybe we're on the brink

Of losing all the time we have to use.
Dear, we're just loose
Hands to a clock spinning without accord to
Where we're headed, just spinning through

The motions and wasting time trying
To make it work. We are defying
The laws of time and throwing it away,
Wasting another day.

Like the little and big hand,
We only land
Side by side, one over the other only so
many times, and this leads me to know

That I'm ticking one way,
And you're ticking astray.
So maybe we save some each other the time
And draw the line

*here.

Unplaced, uncalled for sadness is the worst;
Like a ****, it sprouts up
In some crack within my ribcage.

I don't understand the sadness.
It goes ignored and disregarded
Because I can't place why it began to grow,

And it'll just continue to grow
Until it takes over my body,
Growing by the streams down my cheeks.

Maybe if I had your address,
Or knew what you liked,
I'd send you little things
To let you know it will be alright.

Maybe if we were closer,
Maybe if we had talked more,
I'll drive on over,
And knock on your door.

Maybe if I could,
Maybe if I had,
I'd find any way
To ensure you weren't so sad.

Maybe if I knew what happened,
Maybe if I knew why,
I'd search around until
I found a reason for your rhyme.

Maybe someone does this for you already-
I sure hope that's true.
I sure hope your chin stays up,
Long enough to make it through.

And maybe you're treading a path alone,
With only your demons in tow;
They'll disappear someday,
And in your heart, flowers will grow-

Up through your spine,
Finding a path to your mind
The flowers can spread their beauty
In all the cracks they find.

I hope flowers burst out of your soul,
And someday shine through your eyes,
Because sadness comes and goes my dear,
So please don't let your cries

Be what waters your flowers.
Rather, instead,
Water them with faith in overcoming,
With all of the words I have said.

Water them with your quirks,
Your ambitions, your smile-
Let the flowers take over your body;
I promise it's worth your while.

Someday you'll be a garden,
Colorful and healthy, happy and bright-
You'll be a representation of growth,
My dear, you'll be one hell of a sight.

So maybe if you read this,
Always remember, always know
That flowers grow upon whoever
Kindly reaps what they sow.

It's disheartening
When apologies carry
So little weight that

They nearly get lost
Within the so incoherent
Buzz your voice now makes-

All the things you have
To say are so severely
Lacking truth, merit.

"I don't believe your
Apologies anymore."
You used to tell me.

I understand now,
The weight those words carry hit
The cement with an

Echo that screams with
A resounding statement; *"I
Don't believe yours either."

I remember two
A.m. darkness, when you would
play my heartstrings

As you'd strum across
My ribcage, tuning out the
World around us- we

Could only hear
Heart beats against chests and
The sound of deep breaths

Before lips would meet
And create a song of the things
We physically could

Not verbalize; some
Songs are only felt, not sung.
In between the sheets,

I could feel every
Note you spoke in the way
You kissed me to sleep.

The past is behind you,
Where it ought to be;
Don't let it's façade of good times
Lure you back into the warm arms of nostalgia and memories.

The past has passed,
So accept it and move on with life;
Don't let it latch onto your ankles
And chain you down to your old strifes.

The past is what was,
What used to be;
Let it stay that way,
Let the past be something you only see

When the past is teaching you how
To grow, molding into yourself, making a better fit;
Your past doesn't need you,
Nor do you need it.

The past is gone,
It'll only return in your dreams;
Sometimes that's hard and saddening,
But that's only as it seems-

See, the past is growing more
Each and every day;
Just let the past continue on,
And go your separate ways.

I heard from you that it takes 21 days to form a habit.
It's been 3 days of falling asleep sad,
18 days of acknowledging all you did was say my name in vain to anyone that would listen,
25 days of not speaking to you,
67 days of not seeing you in person,
118 days since you told me I was ******,
121 days since I told you to leave me alone,
125 since you stayed the night at my house and talked to me until 3 am,
168 since we said good bye and I somehow just got out of the car and left,
169 since you last said you loved me.

They also say it takes twice as long as the duration of your relationship with someone to forget about them, to move on.
My dear, I'm not prepared to spend the next 3,650 days trying to forget how you'd laugh, or forget the mole on the bottom of your foot, or forget how you'd kiss at my scars and see past them and still had the audacity to tell me I was pretty and worthy of love. Every day those memories drop from my consciousness into a puddle that wells in the bottom of my heart, and I fear someday it'll overflow.

These days continue to pass, as do my memories of you and all that we shared. The days pass just like your feelings did for me and I wish you'd teach me your ways because you took days to let go and I've taken too many days holding onto someone who, one day, decided I wasn't even worthy of respect. And that was the day I decided to not ever go back. It was also the day I cried on my kitchen floor because the day came and went, just like you did, just like we hoped we never would.

Flower's petals fall,
Like the leaves of Autumn trees,
Like I did for you.

These things falling show
Us that losing your petals
And leaves is to die,

And falling for you
Felt like dying because you
Didn't fall with me.

I want a love so deep
That I lose sleep
Over the way you say my name;
You put those stars to shame

When your eyes ignite,
Come to be so bright
At the sound of your favorite song;
I could admire that all day long.

I want a love so vast
That it could endure, forever last
So long that you would just kiss me once more,
Because that's what lips are for.

I want a love so strong
That it couldn't go wrong;
A love so sturdy and true,
Enough to see everything through.

I want a love that's only yours,
That leaves me always wanting more-
I want a love that only you obtain,
I want a love like this to keep me sane.

Therapists suggest deep breaths
When those memories come rolling
Into my thoughts like trains
Hitting cement walls-

Destroying it, nothing left
But my deep ******* breaths; they aren't controlling
The fact that my brain
Won't forget those long gone calls.

So I panic, I revert, I concave
Into myself and shake and the
Anxiety encompasses my every fiber
Within my being.

Talking about it doesn't make me brave.
Talking about it makes me accept the shove
Into remembering. I become a diver
Unstilling the waves, no longer am I fleeing.

If I'm remembering, I am losing.
If I am conscious, I am at a loss for peace.
If I am ignoring, I am causing my heart's bruisings-
This is the part of me I control least.

I don't tell people often enough
That I love them
Because love can fade,
"I love you" doesn't always suffice.

Rather I say thank you.
I say that I'm thankful for their existence,
Their existing within my own life,
Because sometimes I don't love the people I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for people I can't love,
People I don't allow myself to love,
And people who love me in odd ways.
Love isn't always so grand and welcoming.

I'm quite thankful for the people
I don't love, and for the ones that don't love me.
We've played teacher to one another,
We've taught lessons, tested out the material, finalized where we all stand.

So thank you to plenty,
I'll tell you I love you if I do,
But more than anything I'm thankful-
Thankful for your reciprocating, or lack of, love too.

I'm sorry that I cannot demonstrate
How I love you
That circumstances had to create
A distance, a wall through

Us and what we had
And what could have been.
We faded like a fad,
Seemlessly disappearing, never to be seen again.

I'm sorry that I'm not sorry enough
To be with you.
I'm sorry I've hurt you, made it so rough
To to see me through.