you sit and eat cereal off my floor.
talk about the way it was before

I know your soul like I know no man's land
You know little about me.
you sit and eat cereal off my floor.
I talk about the things i want to be

ode to the peach tree,
sage leaves and chai tea,
to learning how to play guitar,
to undressed, endless summers
wherever you are.

(and i’m fairly certain one is)



i’m just trying to
bring all the things together,
this entire time.
that’s it.

tagging and
  linking and
      documenting
highlighting and
  tearing out and
rearranging
layering and
erasing.

it’s just a reflection
of my reality.

- no - that’s not right,
not a reflection.

it is more of a
p r o j e c t i o n,
i suppose.

we grew up together playing house,
i remember one night you called me your king and i called you mine.
it was nothing but a growing, childhood love.
my star projector let us count stars on my bedroom ceiling until we were old enough to sneak out, lay on park benches and count the ones in the sky.
our heads touching each other was the only thing that could help me fall asleep.
time never stopped for us,
even if it did feel like it when we held hands,
we grew taller and eventually,
not even the warmth of my arms was enough for you.
we grew up and apart.
i waited for you one summer night on that bench,
closing my eyes, pretending my hand touching the tip of my head was yours.
the sun began to rise and you never came.
i dreamt that you came and we counted the stars again.
i wanted to count your eyelashes again and see how many galaxies your eyes held again,
but i couldn't.
everything has faded again and
the only time i see you now is when i close my eyes.

it's amazing how books can make you feel. i feel like i'm being suffocated by words,
how does that even happen?
even in this room filled with screams, it feels like nothing compared to reading the words,
'i love you".

i always felt like i could write a book.
i'm not sure what i'd write about though.
i could write about how ****** i am because my parents,
or how awkward love is even when for adults,
or how, eventually, we all turn thirty and how it's scary that we spent so many years in school only to be thrown naked out into the world.

i forgive you.
i'm sending this letter to you through the energy wave lengths that will stay between us forever.
it took a lot of years for me to that i'll forgive you but i'm ready to close the chapter of my life where your name is still printed in.
the mountains i climbed for you to love me where never enough,
the nights i begged for you to not treat me like the gum under your shoe were not worth it.
one day i hope you make peace with your demons like i'm learning to now.
you will always have a piece of my heart,
and no matter how much sadness and anger rises in me thinking of the treatment you gave for years,
i will treat you with kindness and love.
you have no place in my life anymore and that's okay.
i hope one day you can find that happiness you were searching for.

it started slow.
we said hi to each other when we walked into class.
then we started greeting each other outside of class.
one day, we talked about music and i started to notice the softness in your voice.
another day, we stood next to each other and joked about putting laxatives in the school water,
the laughter and agreement that filled the air felt fresh and new,
this day i noticed how beautiful his smile was when he laughed along with me.
eventually, when i walked into class,
you got out of your seat and walked across the classroom to simply tell me
good morning.
that's when it started picking up.
time felt warped and even stopped those few minutes i talked to you every morning.
today, you moved from your seat and sat next to me.
i hid my hands under the table,
i didn't want you to see them shake.
i tried not to look at you when you talked to me,
only looking your way when your eyes were averted and focused on your paper.
we shared earbuds today, you showed me Dio but i couldn't listen to it because i was too focused on the way your head moved to the guitar riffs.
when class ended, you asked for my phone number, you held your phone out with one hand and i accepted it with two.
my shaking hands held the phone as i punched in my number,
2.....1.....4.......4.....1...4..............it was torture,
i prayed that you wouldn't notice my hands.
cheers to new found butterflies.

the leaves are slowly changing on the trees in my neighborhood.
i notice them five days a week when i ride the bus home.
the air is starting to get cooler and i'm starting to find myself walking slower on my way home to enjoy it,
i want to soak in every minute of this cool transitioning air.
my eyes actually look up to ahead of me instead of at my shoes.
the weather brings out the colors of the houses,
orange, sky blue, red, mustard yellow, burgundy, brown, magenta.
everything seems so perfect in these moments.

tomorrow,
i've been waiting for this day for months,
for years.
and it's here.
all the hurt and pain has left my body and for this day,
for tomorrow,
it'll be like it was never here.
love and happiness has filled my veins and my inch of my soul.
tomorrow,
wait for me.

the anxiety that made no sense ate from the inside out.
before i knew it i felt a sting in my fingers and realized i was picking at them again.
i watched blood rise from the raw muscle underneath the skin that was no longer there.
i pressed down on it with a tissue,
closing my eyes from the sting.
it hurt to bend my fingers.
a wave of shame and embarrassment washed over me,
i didn't want to show my hands anymore.