Sometimes I want to die.
I'm not sure what comes after.

Grandpa says we're reborn amongst the stars,
That maybe we'll live on Mars.
I wonder if the sunrises would be just as colorful,
Or if the sky will drown in the same rusty red as the ground.

It's a recurring thought; the ins and outs of it all.
I think about it almost as often as grandma says she regrets keeping us.
That she should have let dad's family raise us to avoid all the fuss.
And that last bit stings.
It used to be my character was just like his,
The slap to the face I'd get for correcting her in front of others.
Now it's remorse for the life she led and throwing punches without the proper covers.
Bruised knuckles are better than split skin and sometimes the thought of getting caught is enough to stop a robber.

《》

Sometimes I want to die.
I'm not sure what comes after,
But Heaven would sound a lot like your laughter.

It's hard to explain.
The patterns in my brain
are like scratches on a CD
when all you want
is to listen to the music
but the **** thing
keeps on skipping
and repeating
certain parts
while everyone else
is dancing in their cars
and you're just trying
to drive and
breathe.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

Solían decirme que pensaba muy alto.
Me recordaba al dicho de la lengua que se comió el gato.
Pero no es la falta de lengua el problema,
Ni la falta de palabras, sino un exceso de ellas.
《》
No sé cómo terminar el poema. No sé cómo dejar de sentir pena por ella. Por la chica que conociste y la que ahora toma su lugar. Tampoco sé cómo decir que te extraño; que no quiero que esto se nos haga cantos, que quisiera estar descansando a tu lado. Solo espero que me leas y sepas que hablo de ti, y que me puedas dar tiempo para ser la chica que fui.