I finally get what I've dreamt of;
My fingers laced between yours,
A meaningful conversation,
And an opportunity to just be with you.

I took the first step, took a shove
Into your arms, asking for
You to give me some reciprocation-
And that's precisely what you do.

Your feelings and love
Are misplaced, because who you adore
Is not who I really am, more like a romanticized creation
You formed in your head, too good to be true.

I cannot be yours simply because I seem
To mold to what you desire,
To form to your liking,
To be seemingly perfect in your eyes.

You look at me, your eyes gleam
With a long-burning, hearty fire
That I'm alluring and utterly striking;
I am that of which it all defies.

I am not so fit for you, not a cog to your machine
In which we fit together and conspire
To somehow work out kinks, our chances hiking
To the highest peak, somewhere touching the skies.

I firmly believe that everything happens for an implicit and explicit reason.

For example, I am attending community college because I decided to.

I am also attending community college because I was meant to begin my collegiate endeavors there. It wasn't my first choice, but since deciding to do so it has panned out to be the best choice for me in so many different ways.

So, everything occurs for implicit and explicit reasons. Events occur, decisions are made because we made them so, but it was also supposed to be that way. I suppose this is my confirmation in my faith of fate, a preordained future of sorts. I believe that everything happens for a reason, good or bad, so we can grown and learn; if things were different though, everything else would be too. The smallest of details alter the larger picture.

With that said, I've realized the course of events sometimes ****. A lot. Sometimes you lose people, you lose faith, you lose your footing, you just lose in total and it hurts a lot. But you have to lose sometimes, no matter how much it *****. The hard times are as important as the good; both have integral lessons in them, and only experience will unlock the knowledge you need to move on and tread new paths cautiously, with more knowledge, bravery and with more ease.

Losing is inevitable; we are like trees in that year in, year out, we grow a little more and let go of the heavy leaves stopping us from doing just that.

Sometimes you're the tree, in need of losing some of those weighty leaves. Sometimes you're the leaves, the weight upon someone else's tree. I'm sad to say I was a leaf, but I'm not sad that I went through being a leaf. I've learned, through being a leaf, that I can hurt people with my words and actions. I learned that I can be really selfish, usually at the expense of others. I learned I'm condescending, I say one thing but do another. I don't always practice what I preach, I talk about love then demonstrate indifference.

I was meant to be a leaf and it's because my actions made me so; I took advantage of him until he realized that I was doing so. I was meant to be a leaf because it taught me and him a vast lesson that people will let you down, people will leave, people will ruin you, people will love you in the most twisted ways, people will confuse you, people will use you, people will not keep promises, people won't always explain, people will **** up and make you lose faith in everyone else.

I was meant to be a leaf, as horrible as that is, to teach all of that to him and I was a terrific teacher to a horrible lesson. Everything happens for a reason; explicitly, I don't have the privilege of being in his life because I was horrible. Implicitly, I wasn't meant to be there for long anyway, because I was toxic and confusing. The small spurts of happiness and enjoyment I provided never fully compensated for the pain, anger, heart break and damage I'd leave behind.

So, I cope with that everything happens for a reason. Someday there will be someone to repair him and fix his faith and help him realize why we didn't work. Someone else out there will be a 180 from me and she'll actually do a good job in loving him. Everything happens for a reason, and that's about the only way I can somehow come to terms with what I've done.

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 can't place my finger
On how you became so distant
And different
And difficult to tolerate.

I can't place my finger
In between the salt water trails
Down my cheeks because it won't
Stop them from flowing.

I can't place my finger
On how I precisely feel,
Or why I randomly cry,
Or why the stars make me feel so small every night.

I can't place my finger
On the moment when you became
A face in photos that I vaguely stare at
In attempts to remember who you are.

I can't place my finger
On why the sadness creeps up
And camps out in my chest,
And bangs pots and pans so I can't sleep.

I can't place a finger on your hand
When you're lonesome,
When you're tired;
I can't be there for you.

I can't place a finger
On the moment when I became the past.
I can't place a finger
On the moment you decided to let my words be the last ones spoken.

I can't place a **** finger
On my own valves and stop the blood
Pumping through my veins because if the pumping ceased,
So would these endless nights and thoughts.

Granted I can't place a finger
On why I'm so "damaged",
As you would say;
I'm not sure why I am perpetually in limbo between extremities.

I just can't place my finger
On why I even care so much;
I promise it's not because I miss us.
I'm quite fine without.

I can solely place my finger
Upon the fact that I'm out here
Blazing a trail on my own,
And I'm scared as hell I'll waver and trail down into the darkest parts of my being,

And just remain there, sleeping on the dark path that is carved out in my heart where only these thoughts resurrect themselves and lie down with me too, long enough for me to forget how to place my fingers into a fist and fight them off; I can't place a finger on why I'm fighting in the first place, why sometimes I place a finger to my face and there are streams of unplaced, uncalled for sadness and delusion.

Old ballet shoes,
Yearbooks with letters wedged into the cracks promising friendship until the end of time.

The yearbook signatures that promised to call or catch up,
and the signatures that actually should have ended with "good bye".

Children's books and children's clothing,
Tiny t-shirts and itty bitty shorts.

Ticket stubs and concert tickets,
ID cards and senior portraits.

Long lost poetry and crinkled letters
To boys I thought I'd love beyond the time I did.

Photographs of us in our youth
And some of us apart, outgrowing each other.

Homework from freshman year,
Art projects I thought deserved life beyond the magnets on the kitchen fridge.

Baby blankets and old rosaries
for when I thought Jesus could keep my faith in all that's good.

Books I haven't read in years
that still make me smile when I roll my fingers down the spine.

My grandpa's memorial announcement
and his old fishing hat.

The CD's we used to make dances to,
and perform for ourselves in my old costumes.

Friendship bracelets from girl's names I can't remember,
and friendships I lost
Numerous diaries with long entries about being older,
and how someday older will be better,

How age will bring me adventure, maturity, love, resolution, clarity, a sense of myself, happiness.
Here I am with more age, and these endless memories make me wish for the time when I could still fit into the little shorts and stick my tongue out in pictures.

The someday I wrote of is today
and I'm teary-eyed over what used to be.

I'm missing the old you and the old memories,
the old friends and the old ways of happiness.

I'm here, older now,
and I wish I knew if older was better.

Zquil
Tumblr
Reading
Pacing
Eating
Crying
Chores
Journaling
Prayi­ng
Talking to myself
Ripping up old letters, photos
Drawing on myself

All of the above ensure I hit my bed exhausted, exhausted enough to fall asleep instantly so I don't have to lay here and wonder how we became strangers and how it's almost stranger that neither of us care to share that it's sad so we let it be, let it rest until none of that puts me to sleep and I sit here and drown in my thoughts, suffocated by the fact that it's all ******* over and the photos are mere memories and there won't be more photos, there won't be more memories to create because you are so far gone.

All of the above ensure I hit my bed, exhausted enough to fall asleep instantly so I don't have to feel and acknowledge that losing people is piercing my heart. Being numb and indifferent is so much easier when you're too tired to acknowledge how you really feel.

I keep busy during the day, tire myself out, and hope to God I'm so exhausted that I sleep for hours until I do it all over again. There's a solid 8 hours I don't have to acknowledge any of this is real and the sooner I'm there, the more numb I feel and at this rate I don't want to feel this at all.

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.

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.

I never really wanted to die-

I dabbled in suicidal thoughts, though not the perse usual rummaging through the brain of, "If I died, what would happen?"

I thought that too. For nearly 5 years.

Suicide is a common thought. Planning, excessive thinking, executing is statistically common too, though not as pedestrian as contemplating,
"If I died, what would happen?"

Yes, I contemplated. I planned. I excessively thought. I thought I wanted to die and I really didn't. I never really wanted to die, hence why I am still here.

I did not attempt. I made half assed attempts, if even. I literally and metaphorically scraped the surface, specifically the insides of wrists. Bandages and "the dog scratched me" sufficed as cover up.

Do not mistake these "attempts" as false sense of despair and hurt though. I hurt like hell. Cutting myself hurt less, and I think that's why we do it. The despair tore holes in my vision that somehow blurred the light into darkness and convinced me I might have been blind.

I was blind as a bat and at the time, that is why I thought I wanted to die at my own hands, on my own terms. 5 years of contemplating and planning and cutting and bandaging and wondering how many **** times the dog can scratch in the same place. 5 years of bouncing back and forth between seeing the light and having it blurred every time I felt myself wanting to die.

I promise I never really wanted to die though. I would have done it if I had.

I didn't want to die; I wanted a reason to live. Cliché? Maybe. But for 5 years that was my reality and my immature brain couldn't make sense of it. My little brain had no way of knowing that my reasons to live were immense and vast, like the horizon and sea meeting at that thin line across the way when you watch a sunset.

I wanted a reason to live. Living through my personal hell of trying to drag myself out without too many scars from my own hands and the world around me gave me a reason. I fought. I didn't even know what I was fighting but I fought. I threw punches and elbows until I found a way out of the pit where I fell and lost sight of the lights that gleamed like stars and took my breath away.

Fighting was a reason, and that was the start. Fighting to stay at a better place was a reason. Progress. The next day hopefully being better, another reason to put down the little jagged edge of a broken statue I used to cut myself when I felt I needed physical pain to bear truth to the waves I was drowning in within my rib cage.

I never really wanted to die and I wanted a reason to live. Every day I made it, I found that a reason would not suffice because rather there are so many reasons.

First, others empathize. They have seen their own hells. Hell looks different to us all, but feels just the same; like it is going to burn us to the ground if we don't start running the other direction. And it will. It could burn you like liquor down the throat, like overdosing or cheating or killing yourself or a multitude of other things that would signify hell burning you to the ground.

Second, others sometimes ponder dying too. We all do. Look at that, another commonality. Third, we are all human and if you give people a chance, you find they are similar to you in ways you cannot imagine, in ways you could not comprehend until you find out that your coworker also struggled with depression and your neighbor also has parents with a shaky marriage and your grandmother just wants someone to want her the same way you want someone to want you.

Fourth, others will look into your hell and if they run scared, they haven't seen many hells. If they stay and watch the glow, they will stay and hopefully help guide you out. So long you're willing to keep stepping forward, they may be on the opposite side waiting with a pitcher of water and a pat on the back for doing your best.

Fifth, people care. They do. They care and I promise the most random people will care if you died. Death is the only thing promised to us, as the pessimists say. I beg to differ; the notion that people will care is also confirmed in my mental book of, "Things I Know To Be True." Will it be 1 or 100 or millions, I cannot say. I can tell you someone will care though, and that someone is me.

I never wanted to die and that's a reason enough not to do it, right? To write about it and tell others? To tell strangers that I care if they die or not? That there is a reason to life even if I can't tell you exactly what?

Entirely. Strangers read my words every day and the most beautiful thing is the commonalities I have with these strangers, with people I can't put names or faces to because we may never meet.

I never wanted to die because I knew in my fickle, unsure yet unwavering heart that someday I may write about it all, and it may save a life. I read a lot in the 5 years I thought I wanted to die and the most remarkable was this-

A man jumped 9 stories and survived. He recalled not wanting to die as soon as he jumped. I didn't want to be that man in that he had to jump to know he wanted to live, but rather brave enough to speak about it so people like me could read and rethink the notion of wanting to die.

I did rethink it. It took me time and effort and sweat and tears and sadly some dripping blood but eventually I realized I never really wanted to die. I wanted a reason to live, and a stranger who wrote an article on another stranger gave me a reason to just that. Live.

Living has scared me shitless, unlike the way possibly dying at my will has. Dying is the period; definitive, dark, completion. Living are the semicolons and commas, the dashes and run on sentences. I want to keep running, I want to keep writing and loving and hurting and waking up knowing I can do it all again one more day, if I am so lucky to be afforded one more day.

I spent 5 years contemplating what would happen if I died, and who would care, and what would happen 5 years after my death. I never really wanted to die though, so I hung those thoughts up to dry. They recur sometimes and I do what I can to keep them out. I spent 5 years "living" on the brink of a death that wasn't even coming unless I said it was, and you know what? The anxiety of it all was worse than possibly dying itself. The anxiety of not knowing if killing myself was worth it killed me the most, left me petrified like a deer in headlights wondering the same **** thing I had for 5 years-

Am I going to die?

Yes. Someday. I am going to die someday.

Not at my own hands though. My hands have held others and felt the ocean at midnight. My hands have placed vinyl into a record player and my hands have made killer banana bread. My hands have petted more dogs than I can count and have gotten me sick because I touched the railings at school during flu season. My hands have held so much more and they hold my life; I do not intend to grip my life so hard and worriedly that I strangle the last breath out if it.

For the last ******* time I DID NOT REALLY WANT TO DIE and I bet none of you do either, even the ones that succeeded in the saddest succession known to man- beating nature at it's own game and taking life that wasn't meant to be taken. I did not really want to die, and you do not either. So where is the light at the end of the tunnel? The notion to hold on one more time?

It is the words I have written, the sun streaming through your windows each day, the hands you have held and the hands that hope to hold yours. It is in the tip you give to the man playing the guitar on the corner of your street, it is the lemonade stand that reminds you of sweet childhood.

Yes, death is promised to is all. Life is not. I can solely promise that your life is worth it though, and that fighting for it leaves you with a story to tell 5 years later when you realized that you never really wanted to die.

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.

Candles only crumple into themselves and melt, then harden went they're burnt out;

I can see myself the same because you lit matches to me that ignited more than the wick,

More and more, burning into the night just trying to guide the way and keep you warm.

Morning comes, the sun rises too, and with light you don't need a candle to show the way.

Day in and day out, you put me aside. But when the night came about and darkness fell upon your mind, casting shadows upon your heart, you were quick to light a match to me just one more time.

Burnt, hardened and gone; the cold winds from your breathy, diluted and icy moments of speak blew me out one last time.

I understand you don't need me, but please don't reach for me in the dark or light a match to a wick you once knew because you're cold and lost and can't find your way to someone else.

You once took all the light inside of me away; doubtfully so, but if you haven't lost the ways I'd light up your life, I suggest that you get to it because though you haven't, the ways you darkened mine have yet to be forgot.

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 far better things ahead than we leave behind,
Or so I have read somewhere,
From some famous author or speaker or whatever.

There are far better things and people and moments ahead, I've come to find;
It's true. The past becomes so, evaporates into thin air,
Only allowing what's to come next- the better.

The better sometimes takes its time to arrive,
And doesn't always make itself known;
Sometimes it's under your nose and you haven't a clue.

Sometimes it's easy to attain, sometimes you strive
To even have enough eyesight to be shown
What is so much better ahead that what is behind, what you knew.

The past is where it is for a reason,
And I've come to accept that people will
Fall behind in time and become mere memories,

Though that's okay when you understand that they'll come and go like seasons,
It's okay that people remain still
In time and never return just to please

The insatiable want for people from your past-
No, people will leave.
It will hurt, you will cry, you will lose.

And when others arrive, and they last
Beyond the fights that make us upset and grieve,
Past the small incidents that ultimately help us choose

Who is worth the fight,
Who is worth the time,
Who is worth the effort, because without a doubt

You will accept that some just might
Thankfully stick around- I've come to find
That this is what I've been hearing about.

The problem is that I can see you in my rear view mirror waving good bye every time I try to steer towards something better,
And I reverse back into your arms
In a way that sends my heart crashing back into your atmosphere.

The problem is that I can see me in your bed for hours on end
Researching your skin with my keen eye
So I can kiss at what you would call imperfections.

The problem is that the rose colored glasses I put on
The day I laid on the couch with you and told you I loved you
Haven't lose their hue, haven't lost their tint on my world.

The problem is that I'd drunkenly fall into your arms
The same way I did over a year ago
And I know you wouldn't catch me.

The problem is that you were the one that got away
And you ran fast and far
Because you needed to get away;
That was what I became to you.

The problem was that I taught you more about breaking than heart
And you taught me more about patience than tolerance
And at the end of it all I learned how to live a life without you in it because that was my only option.

The problem is that I am still in love with you
And you're in love with the life
That doesn't have a remnant of me.

The problem is that I am in love with you
And your life
Had no room for me

I want long stares
Across rooms and halls
Sly, enticing glares
Those silent "come and get me" calls

I want cold feet
Tucked in between yours
My ear listening to your heart beat
Sleepy smiles and soft snores

I want to dance with no music
Sway however we please
Looking absolutely foolish
Yet be totally at ease

I want long good byes
Even longer hugs, you know
Exasperated, joking sighs
When you won't  let me go

I want to split the check
Hold your hand under the table
When no one's looking, a quick peck
Just because you're able

I want to go for walks
Steps in sync, hand in hand
We look at scenery, endlessly talk
Our conversations never becoming bland

I want to laugh
Nearly cry at your dumb puns
The way you make me smile is a craft
You seem to be the only one

I want to argue and fight
There's no avoiding this
I'm stubborn, I think I'm always right
Pushing your buttons, I can't resist

I want to show up unannounced
To say I'm sorry, to fix my wrongs
In hopes I'm not renounced
Because to you, my silly heart belongs

The hardest part is that I want you
All of you, every ounce of your being
All you can offer and be too
I wish you were agreeing

I wanted you
And you made it clear
That your heart wasn't true
My reality became my worst fears

So I want you to go
Leave my mind and my sights
You're no good for me, I know
Your leaving creates a spot for someone who's right.

My guilty pleasure is not a piece of chocolate after a long day, or bumming a cigarrette off of a stranger. Rather, I guiltily find pleasure in imagining how much better you taste on my lips than those trivial pleasures. The sheer thought of your lips on me makes me guilty with an undying want for the pleasure of your lips.

The flowers on my bedside table
Lost their rosy red hue,
Stopped smelling like spring,
Drooped over the sides of the vase
Just like the smile upon my face.

The flowers on my bedside table
Didn't get new water,
Didn't receive sunlight and warmth,
Didn't get the proper nurture they needed
Just like our love.

The flowers on my bedside table
Look old and sad,
Obviously near the end of life,
Crinkly and dry and faded,
Just like our will.

The flowers on my bedside table
Will be gone soon.
I'll throw them out
Because they are a sad sight
Just like our relationship.

The flowers on my bedside table
Were from you.
They were amazing at first,
And now they are nearing death,
Just as I feel all we have together too.

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.

It is really inspiring and noteworthy when you choose to channel your pain into athleticism, art, music, etc. rather than letting it get the best of you.

It is making the best of the worst, a way of defying pain and not allowing it to keep you down for too long.

I think it is a beautiful way of dealing with pain; letting it effect you to an extent but not take control. You allow pain to move you, inspire your work, and make something beautiful out of it.

It's like taking an old house and fixing it back up, good as new. That is what we do with our hearts. We feel pain, we find an outlet; after, our hearts are as good as new, possibly wiser and smarter too.

So run 10 miles, work long days, write poetry, sketch til your fingers ache, sing until you feel the pain seep out of you and into your work. Once it is in your work, it is gone from you and you're free. Your pain is now gone and something beautiful, and that is really something amazing.

It's ironic that today is a day of independence,
A whole month away from me.
I thought I'd be sadder,
But I've actually never been so happy.

It's ironic that one month ago,
We said our goodbyes-
July 4th has been a day
In which I didn't cry.

It's ironic that you didn't
Think I could be okay,
Where here I am, breathing and smiling without you.
I'll live to see another day.

July 5th will come,
As will my life in it's entirety,
But today I realized my immense indenpendence,
I realized alone and happy is something I could be.

Plastered to the wall are memories of me. I am in your sheets and bedspread, your kitchen and driveway. I am imprinted on your couch, lingering in your halls and thoughts. My reflection was once in one of your mirrors, my hand once on one of your door handles. I am in your closet rummaging through sweaters, I am in your garage waiting to leave.
I am everywhere. You won't forget me simply because I am not present; I'm more present than you realize. You won't see me, but you'll feel me and understand how this kind of presence is the most alarming.
You can hide from from physical things, but your feelings will someday roll through like a train off the tracks into your heart and mind and you won't be able to hide, not even in the comfort of your own home, because my presence will be there. You will remember and feel me, and realize that I was the realest thing you ever had.
I won't be tangible by then though. You will only have your halls, your kitchen, the empty mirror, the untouched door handles to remember me by, because I refuse to wait around for someone who will wait that long to see what's in front of them.
Good bye.

I'm out here on a limb
D
A
  N
   G
     L
      I
      N
       G
Like a leaf on a tree in late autumn, yellow and spotted and dry, close to falling into the breeze that'll carry me away, far away from my home to the ground where I'll lay until the wind picks me back up only to place me somewhere new and foreign and unknown effortlessly.

I am out here on a limb.
You've already flown away and I see how you go with the wind and you flow with ease and it's all so simple for you; you let your troubles, and therefore yourself, "go with the flow" and now you're floating away into the horizon where people go once they've let go of the barriers and ties holding them back.

I am out here on a limb.
I'd like to follow and float and be free and land wherever the wind takes me, just like you bravely did. You let go and I haven't let go of my limb or you, though the wind is relentless so maybe it'll tear me away without my consent but right now you're floating away and I want to allow the wind to take me too but the uncertainty of whether we'll land somewhere close by is too immense to fathom, so I'll hold onto the limb and watch you float away and know that it's probably for the best that you're floating away
                                           from me.

Turns out I was your limb all along.
Watching you bud last spring, grow and form before my eyes in the summer, begin to wither by fall and float away in the icy-cold, biting winds of winter because I sent you there without knowing I even did so.

You went out on a limb.
You grew and us died and you left and I can't follow you this time because you're finally free and I can't hold onto you forever, not when the winds turn to warm breezes and you finally feel at ease floating away from me. The seasons came, we changed, you left, and I became a leaf on a tree refusing to leave because even if I did leave my own limb of comfort, the wind would keep us apart and it's for the better.

You were on a limb.
And now that you're floating away I can fully see just how lovely and peaceful you are,
because you are without
                                         me.

I spent an hour in bed
Cuddled up, thoughts of you in my head
I spent an hour pondering about you
And realized that you haven't a clue

I spent an hour in bed
Feeling sleepy and heavy as lead
Because sometimes I let myself emulate my feelings
And lay around, staring at the ceiling

I spent an hour in bed
As quiet as if I were dead
Because my thoughts are swimming
Therefore, my demons are winning

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.

Today; 1
Me; 0

You win some and you lose some.
I won a day of issues, misunderstandings, confusion and annoyance.
I've lost the tolerance for and the will to work out problems with people who can't acknowledge their faults or make sacrifices for what I thought was a worthy friendship.
It hurts because I tried. I had the best of intentions and they left me with the worst of feelings.

I let out too much, too soon
Like an untied balloon losing its' air,
Like a bottle of soda bursting at an unwound cap.

I let out too much, and much too soon-
I know because I am with my chin on my knees,
Wondering how I could open up so easily

To someone who doesn't know too much,
And not soon enough to realize that
Me opening up is like a tidal wave engulfing the shore.

You don't know much about that
I'm soon enough going to let all my secrets leak
From my cracks and tell me, can you handle that?

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

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.

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.

I am not meant for spare moments or free time.
I am not a check on your to-do list.
I do not fall under weekly, monthly or annually.
I can't be satisfied with your accumulated seconds and fleeting minutes.

I am meant for someone who carves out time.
I am meant to be held and loved without the sound of a clock's tick in the background.
I am deserving of lengthy stares and long kisses.
I fall into arms that hold me long, that hold me all night.

I am not your spare time.
I am not your fleeting seconds.
I am so much more than that.

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 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.

Photos of you make me smile
Almost as much as you used to make me yourself.

Seeing that you're enjoying yourself is great,
Almost as much as I used to enjoy being with you.

Knowing you're at peace, you're content
Is almost as terrific as how I felt when you'd kiss me goodnight.

Your smile surely lights up your face
Just as a smile used to light up mine when you said you loved me.

Your heart is open and new and refreshed,
Just as I am now that I don't hold it.

Your heart was nice to hold
Until it became too heavy.

It weighed me down, anchored me
To the thought that there was only you.

Trust me, I love you still.
But not as much as I used to.

Trust me, some days I hurt.
But not as much as I used to.

Trust me, we are better off this way,
So much better than we used to be.

I can fondly say that you being happy
Makes me happy also.

It's notably sad that we couldn't be happy together,
But it's okay.

I'm okay, you're okay, we will move forward and move on,
Almost to the point where I forget what you smell like,

To the point where I forget your mannerisms,
Your quirks and faults and tendencies.

But I won't forget your lips on my neck,
Or your love of dancing with me.

I won't forget how much you loved me,
enough to save me until I learned to save myself.

You leaving is actually a testament to how much you helped me;
You saved me so that I could learn to do so independently.

And you left.
And I saved myself.

And I wrote this.
And I smiled.

I smiled, looked at a photo of you,
And smiled again because I know we are happy.

We are separate, happy, and okay.
What more could I ask for?

You are more than meets
The eye, hence why I regret
Being so **** blind.

The Earth smiles in flowers.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson*

A year ago
I ceased to grow
Because I was stuck in your shade

And now I have roots,
And the length of me shoots
Deep into the soil.

I found stability in me
And strived to be
More than a girl someone could love.

The Earth smiles
In flowers for miles,
And my love grew a field.

I grew far and wide,
For I have nothing to hide-
I bloomed with patience and time.

A year ago,
I ceased to grow,
And now I'm here to state

That growing is slow,
But so long you know
That for good things to cultivate

You have to take an age-old
Tired and true approach,
And simply let the time pass.

Dear, you just have to *wait.

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.

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.

This is the time to find ourselves,
To stay up too late on the phone but wake up early to still watch the sunrise.
This is the time to be stupid and ignorant so we can learn.
This is our time to grow from childish mistakes and moments of self doubt.
This is inevitably the time to realize that the rest of our lives lay ahead of us and there are endless possibilities.
Now is the time for kissing the wrong people and crying about it later.
Now is the time for road trips and long conversations to take up the time.
It is time to jump off the cliffs and make your heart race so fast you can hear it.
Now is the time to be free and young and open and wide-eyed.
Now is the time to explore yourself and your beautiful world around you.
It is time. We only have so much of it. You don't need another person occupying yours, I promise. You need your own self admiration and love, your own sense of exploration and curiosity.
You may find someone and that's beautiful.
Loving someone is a beautiful thing, but remember that loving yourself comes first.
Remember that people come and go. Accept it.
You have to let them go as do they with you. It will always hurt. You may want to crawl back.
Hesitate. Make sure you know what you need, not what you simply want.
Make sure you understand that the time is always now, and you need yourself to utilize it.
You need you. Be there for yourself. Be your own best friend. Be your own role model. Be all you can be.
When should you start all this?
Now.

I'm left melancholy for long gone memories that won't boomerang back and resurface solely because they once made me happy.
I'm left feeling empty minded because thinking hurts, and thinking reminds me I'm a bit empty hearted right now which also means I am empty handed.
I'm left knowing that a common denominator when adding up the problems in my life is me and you can't subtract sadness out of a girl who finds it under every rock, in every corner without necessarily searching too hard.
I'm left feeling like I didn't overcome my sadness again and it's pathetic that I can't; it's notably sad I can't help but sit down with my demons and let them play in the card game that is my life when I was dealt all kings and queens and I somehow walked away with jokers instead.
I sometimes wallow in my sadness. It is not romantic, it is not cute, it is not attractive, it is not enticing, it is not alluring, it is not anything but sad. It is sad I can't always overcome it; sometimes it's a wave crashing down into my eyes, leaving me submerged and wondering when I can resurface to breathe and be alive once again.

There are those you get over,
Those you let go of and let float away like balloons in the breeze.
There are those you take off
Like the heavy winter coat when the sun comes out and introduces spring,
A new life without them.

Then there are those that you learn to live without.
The ones that you take off like a coat and learn to embrace the chill when you find out the coat is no longer your size.
The ones that you let go of but watch as they dance away in the breeze so freely now that you've released your grip.

You kept out the cold
And now I get chills
Because I can't ever put you on-

There are those you let go,
And those you wish you still knew.
You're the coat I wish I never outgrew.

I never thought the hyphen in my last name would indicate divorce,

A severing of my 50/50 blood ties to each of my parents by one tiny horizontal line in between two names.

I never thought that my father Samuel, a biblical name, could not muster even the strength of God to save a marriage,

Nor did I cross my mind that finding myself on my knees meant I was back to a church and a God, somehow shouting to the man that knows love best about how I wanted a love to be saved and it wasn't even my own.

Or that at age 19, the dwindling and sliver-like love of my parents would hurt as much as it does because I've seen fires die out and walls crumble; this doesn't look too different if you ask me.

Samuel, my father-
A man that is not of the father above,
Please solely summon his strength to save the love you are dangling by a thread to a life that if tugged at too hard, could unravel in your cold hands. Your one dream to have a family is going to crumble if you don't rightly love the woman that gave you one in the first place.

And to my mother-
Broken, tired and blue,
Give him the patience your God taught you to have just one more time. Give him the chance to change because I've seen the rain turn to sun and weariness turn to dust when you realize what is at stake. The small steps become the journey and if you only look at how far you have to go, you'll never make it.

I know 20 plus years grows tiresome on the heart and ******* the mind, but when I turn 20 I don't want to have to decide who I will celebrate with, or ask if you two are seeing anyone new. I don't want to see mom in the city and dad alone. I don't want to see my house divided up and I don't want to lose my home.

I know you both came from broke families that bruised your hearts in ways I can't fathom, and have seen the ins and outs of separate homes and step siblings and changes that come too often. I know you two stuck your last names together as a promise to stick together so that my brothers and I didn't have to know two home phone numbers, two addresses and two house keys.

When I was 7 the teacher asked if you two were divorced, and my toothy smile told her no.

I want the toothy smile of my own children to, when questioned about the endurance of love, say no to the notion that it can die out

Because grandma and grandpa were together until they had to go home to the man above.

This isn't about my father's faith or my mother's dwindling faith in him;

This is about how I went back to a God because I'm praying that my parents can find a way to let love back in.

You're waiving your white flag
With less than enough effort
To convince me you are done.

I know your heart is desheveled, crumpled
Into a ball of torn misery between
What to do with me.

You need space, you can't fathom space.
You need time, you won't take the time.
You need peace, I make it hard to obtain that.

So if you feel a force underneath your elbow,
Pushing your arm high enough to see
That you're waiving that flag in my face,

Know it's me pushing you there.
Know I'll hold your elbow there for so long,
And walk away once you have enough strength to keep it there.

I'll push your elbow up
So you can push me away,
And walk down the path you've been hesitant to tread.

Hold strong with that white flag,
Keep it high enough so I can see it in the distance
As I look back at you, up tall and unwavering.

When your heart is broken and on the floor,
Don't forget.
I will be there to pick it up, no matter how many times I have to.

Life has those little bumps that seem impossible to get over.
They will start as mountains, and end as grains of sand,
Because I'm going to be there to make the best of it.

When your smile is upside down,
Never forget.
I will be there to turn it right side up, no matter how much you fuss.

When you can't talk to anyone and life seems hopeless,
I swear to you I will be there with open arms and ears,
No matter how long it will take.

When you're regretting something that changed you in big ways, just know
I'm here to tell you that everything will be okay,
And that the sun will come out, no matter how down you are.

When you're not sure where to step next,
Don't look anywhere but right by your side
Because I will be there guiding you no matter how many times we stumble.

When the fun gets out of hand and your future is looking dim,
Please don't sink to the ground.
But if you do, I will be there holding you up. You remember that.

When you can sit out or dance,
All I can hope is that you dance.

Never forget how special you are,
And how different life would be if you weren't here.

When your faith is running low, please just come to me.
I will be here waiting to restore what was lost.
Life isn't fair, and that is why you have me.

Let the bitterness fade,
And the happiness invade.

It's a **** shame
I put you in my picture frames
Next to my bed
Where, every night, I lay my head.

It's utter irony
That you would lie to me
Every time you said
We would always be friends.

It's really painful
That we became so dull,
So distant in mind and heart.
We're torn apart.

It's rather sad
That all of the times we had
Dissipated, flew off far away,
Leaving us with no words to say.

It's crashing down upon me like waves on the shore
That what we used to be is no more,
That fears became reality and you changed.
So I'll take you out of my picture frames.

I think I've finally made up my mind, but I come to find I haven't.
You didn't even let me explain, maybe to prevent pain and reverting back to all that turmoil.
You filled my mouth with words you found true, things to convince yourself that you already knew the story.
I tried to say what I had on the tip of my tongue, using the breath from my lungs to speak up.
But you already had an idea of how everything was, and I didn't get to fully explain because of that.
You'd interrupt and tell me that I was wrong, that you knew all along that it wasn't you.
And from your point of view, I can see why you feel that you were a new, short term fling.

You were more than a rebound, more than another guy I'd found to make up for someone else's absence though.
You were more than second best, to that I wish I could attest and make you believe me though.
You were the most fun I'd had in awhile, always providing me with a smile and a sense of adventure that summer.

Soon after you left my life for a bit, with good reason, and I took that as a hit and left yours too.
Then you recently returned, and you're not the only one who yearned for the past.
But you won't believe me when I say that I still wanted you, that my feelings are prevalent and true and here and frankly won't go away.

We can blame circumstances or timing,  we can blame deceit and lying to ourselves and one another.
I'm still here, I still feel and though that's clear to me you don't see it.
Live with that facade and false reality, when in actuality that's furthest from the truth.

We can't so we won't begin again to pursue, I'll pretend what you "know" is true.
I'll let it be, you'll move on and see you're okay.
I'll watch you walk away, and whatever chances of us fade as well.
That's what is best, or so it seems; just leave it alone and let it rest until it's over.
Let it go, and deal with the fact that you'll never know.

You must know that if I were not 20 and relatively broke,
I'd be on the next plane to you.

You need to know that I am a miserable texter and I always miss calls,
And missing you is the only thing I do better.

You should know that it is so true- distance makes the heart grow fonder,
Though I find myself only fond of the days that you were 10 minutes down the road and not 10 hours.

I ache for the long drives down silent roads at 12 am and the long coffee dates at 2 in the afternoon.

I ache for the time we had time at our leisure and it was not down to counting the days until I see you next.

You need to know that in my darkest moments, yes, a call will do. But I'm kidding myself if I think that's what I really need.

I miss having you by my side rather than on the other side of the country,
Where we are split by time zones and state lines.

I feel torn in two when I get the call about how broken you feel and there isn't a **** thing I can do other than hope the phone line somehow relays how much I really do care.

Trust me, I ache to be with you more than your actual heart aches. I have not met many people like you, people who get me and see me through.

I have not found the people I want to tell all to, people that I fit with.

I fit with you, and I need you to know that it's only fitting when we are together.

Pinks and blues color the sky,
The sun has removed itself for the night,
And the breeze rolls on,
Alleviating the August heat.

Though a bit high,
You can find me basking in the last of the light
So I can view all the houses, cars and lawns
As I read on my rooftop; nothing beats

These waning summer nights that
Are fleeting quickly. Nothing beats reading
On my roof, enjoying the solitary act
Of simply reading a book.

I'm doing more than reading up here at
Sunset; no, I'm understanding that this is just leading
Me to the notion that happiness has one fact-
Happiness rests in the little things, you just have to look.