kites flew in his mind
& kept his head in the clouds,
forcing me to send messages to the sky
in hope he doesn't take flight
with my world on his shoulders.

he was a traveler
intent on conquering every mountain
he could lay his hands on,
& leaving every atlas
to burn beneath his fingers;
like pain searing on a map of hurt
on his lover's skin -
directionless but in motion.

cigarettes were his staple diet
with beer to wash out
the bitter taste of a quick fix.
his smoke & ashes injected adrenaline
into my wasted body
& set my vision straight
when i was getting drunk off of him
on a monday, or tuesday
(or any day mid-week).
intoxication was a breath of fresh air
on nights when he wasn't -
the nights that i had promised myself
i wouldn't cave in to my
drunken wishes.

spirits gave me spirit
& silenced my thoughts
to allow my body to speak for me
in a language i knew
he would understand.

he kept me close by his side
as he slept through the nights
that the weather shared our bodies' passion,
his heart unable to translate
the song his bag of bones played
into tachycardic rhythm
to match my own.

his arms would curl around
every inch of my being,
holding every ounce of me
but without seeing
that imperial measurements
held little meaning to someone
who quantifies in metric.

last love,
i send messages to the sky
in hope you aren't
my last love.

I am jealous that the sun has kissed your skin for longer than I
and I am jealous of the way your clothes get to hang onto your frame
I am jealous of the way your sheets can wrap themselves around you every night
and I can not always do the same
I want to be the one wrapping myself around you
I want to pull you closer, so close that your heart knows that we're both in sync
Intertwine our hands so that maybe our veins will intertwine too
a continuous circuit unable to carry anything other than love
Maybe you are now my blood
I don't mind if it consumes me, if you envelop me completely
because I am already devoted to you in ways I cannot convey
I woke up with your name tattooed on my ribs, carved into bone, engraved onto my soul
and I didn't notice because it was the most natural thing I'd ever felt
Loving you was like a calling from something higher
installing faith in me that I did not know I was capable of holding
and I will hold my faith in you even if I lack the limbs to physically do so
because I know that as long as you are the lighthouse on the coast
guiding me through storms, typhoons, hurricanes
that I am capable of breathing and growing until no storms can hold me
until I consume tides and still the oceans and I will do it for you
I'll do anything as long as it is for you, with you

This always happens.
Chew me up and spit me out, right?
I want to listen to “Smother” by Daughter and think about how much life *****,
and think about you, and think about what we could have—should have—been.
I want to show you how good of a person I am,
I want to make you see how well I would treat you,
were you mine to treat.
Over before it began.
Will we still go on that date as previously discussed?
It’s okay to say no, I’ve heard it all before
“You’re really nice, but…”
“I just don’t wanna ruin our friendship…”
“I’m not really looking for anything right now…”
And every time I nod and smile,
and lie through my teeth and say that everything is fine.

But it’s not fine, and I want you.
I want you to myself.
I want to walk into a room with you,
I want people to recognize you as mine, and me as yours.
I want to spend long Sunday afternoons with you, reading in bed.
I want to feel your skin against mine, feel your lips against mine.
I want to make love (even though I hate that phrase).
I want to share with you my wildest hopes and dreams,
and I want to know everything about you.

What makes you happiest.
When you’re the most content.
What scares you.
Your favorite ice cream flavor.
All of it, every detail.
I want to become privy to every part,
and when I see you walking towards me from a distance,
I can think to myself, “I really know him. I really love him.”

But this shall not be so.
I am not the right one for you,
just like I am not the right one for so many others.
You say it isn’t personal, but it obviously is.
It’s always personal.
So I will move on with my day,
and try not to think about you all throughout my ****** philosophy class.
And I will fail.
And you will be oblivious.
And we will go on as two parts of a puzzle that don’t go together.
And pretend that we’re friends but never speak.
And eventually lose contact all together.
And hopefully we’ll both find happiness somewhere else.
But even if we do, you will matter to me right now.
And I will shamefully lie awake in bed at night,
and dream of you being there next to me,
until I begin to drift off and realize
I’m warm enough on my own.