i found the love of my life too late

and im only 18

rad

cool and rad

sleeping stars my
head's
confused

ur my favorite
still

i think u can tell when I'm doing really well because I don't come here to gripe as much.

to say goodnight again.

i never told her

nostalgic for a friendship i never had.

I wonder what kind of music you listen to

redesign yourself.
actually do it, this time.

We walk into my bedroom,
continuing the conversation we had in the car.
But, don't you see? she was saying.
We all live forever.
You just have to adjust your definition of forever. I mean, what frame of reference for eternity do we have
other than our own perception?

Really, for all I'm concerned, she sighs,
falling backwards onto the bed,
the universe was born with me.

Isn't that a little bit . . . egocentric? I venture.

Don't be silly. She pulls her hat down over her eyes.
We are all our own universe.

I didn't sleep that night.

in my own bed
my arms
not yours
im here not there im
mine

not
there

does she get better
in the end?

"*******, you're just scared and weak"

makes me wonder what the stars
taste like

But I still miss her.

thinking about you

i forgot to have friends

to not say goodnight
every night

skating around the idea that i
might be
better off
alone.

why am i awful

im falling off the edge of my bed waking up where am i

you are something good and
something nice.

I think I use the phrase "I think" too often.

hope for happier

your hair looks nice

to surround yourself with people you love

summer. start it over
do it better
grow up

every developed thought i communicate is a waste of syllables.

I loved you yesterday, too.

your sleepy voice at 12:02
makes me feel
home again

on twitter,
instagram
hellopoetry.com

who are you?
why are you sad all the time?
why are you only happy about your
boyfriends?

to find that perfect balance
between
you are my world
and
*this is my life

Written 03.27.16

I am the boy who sits next to you in class. I glance sideways at you more times than you catch me, and we share laughs. I criticize your taste in music; it’s too loud and angry. You just smile and turn it up louder.  I am just the boy who sits next to you in class.

I am the one who texted you first because I had seen a movie that reminded me of you, and I told you about it as I watched the fireworks from the top of a parking garage on Independence Day. I am a friend, but I am not someone to whom you would tell your stories. I am the one who texted first.

I am your friend, and we spend hours on end, texting or FaceTiming as I harass children on Club Penguin and you scold me for being so mean. I am your friend and we send each other BuzzFeed quizzes and YouTube videos. I can tell that you like me but I can’t tell why. You are so much more fun than I am. You are much louder, and better at everything. But I am your friend.

I am the voice on the other end of the line when you don’t think you’re going to make it through the night. Days are getting shorter and nights longer and I’ve become the person you tell your stories to. And you tell me all of them, through tears or laughs, or both. And through tears or laughs I listen. I share with you my stories too, but for some reason they don’t seem as interesting, or important, or funny. You are more than me and I feel like you want me to be bigger. But I am the one who makes it okay.

I am yours. Now we fall asleep on the phone every night, and tell each other “good morning” before we open our eyes. You are with me all day. You are my everything. I do not show it, because my father taught me not to. But you are mine. And I am yours.

I am the one who makes you happy, and I take these months for granted. I do not know that in less than 4 months you will be packing your bags, screaming that I never do anything to make you smile. I take you for granted, and it is the biggest mistake of my life. But for now, I am the one who makes you happy.

I am the shirt that you only wear because it’s comfortable. You don’t necessarily like the way it looks, and you don’t love that it’s a little faded and a little small, but it fits you well in the right places, and sometimes makes you feel thin. You tell yourself it’s your favorite shirt anyway.

I am the one you need. I am the one you love. But I am not the reason you get out of bed anymore. The reason you get out of bed is the hope that maybe today will be better. Maybe today I'll do something right. I am the one you need, but I am the one who lets you down every day.

I am the stuffed animal in the corner of your bed that is falling apart, but you can’t throw it away because it has seen you at your worst and you would miss holding it.

I am watching us disintegrate as I stop being the one you go to, because I am so unreliable. I can only offer you words and you need more than someone who is just good with words. You need someone who can make you feel like you’re on top of the world, and that someone is not me. But you desperately want that someone to be me. You tell me you love me, and I answer quickly I love you too but each of us doubts the other, and neither of us believes ourselves.

I am listening to you suggest that maybe we should like... take a break and neither of us knows how long this will be, and neither of us knows if we’ll ever come back.

I am still telling you goodnight, and I still walk you to school because I still love you. But I am realizing that you better off without me, because you stay out all night to avoid thinking about me, and you don’t like coming home anymore because your bed reminds you of me. But I still hold on to you because I can’t bear to see you go.

I am just your bedtime story, whispering into the phone when you can’t sleep. And after you fall asleep I whisper my feelings to you, because I’m not allowed to speak them when you’re awake anymore. I am just your bedtime story because that’s all you need me for anymore. And that’s okay, because I don't need you to love me back, I will make sure you fall asleep before I close my eyes and I will call you in the morning if I haven’t heard from you yet to make sure you didn’t oversleep and I will still call you baby but only after you fall asleep and I will still kiss my hand before I hang up the phone and I will still pick you flowers and buy you donuts and walk you to school and remind you about the vocab quizzes in english class so you don’t **** yourself cramming the night before and I will continue to listen to the music I used to criticize once upon a time, long after you stop thinking about me. I will continue to love you and I will continue to be your bedtime story if that’s all you need me for.

I will forever be your bedtime story.

Written 08.21.16**

I am rereading these words and am made sick by the pathetic, desperate clinging words of my former self, less than 6 months ago. I tell myself I will never fall this deeply again, I will not lose myself to someone who stops appreciating me. I will not destroy myself anymore. I am healthy, and I am not ashamed of my emotions anymore.

What month is it, August?

9 whole months ago I started to notice you.
I'd known you for a year already.
I'd notice how you looked at the floor a lot,
and your voice made me smile no matter what you said.
but I was scared to look at you, because
      you're not supposed to stare at the sun,
ya know?

and now we're young and happy,
living each day from
      good morning <3
to
      *goodnight you, sleep well <3

I have a beautiful life
filled with beautiful people
who make me feel beautiful things.

I love my friends.

I'm getting better at writing
and worse at sleeping.

funny how
a year ago tonight
we danced
to summer wind
and outside songs,
looked at clouded
navy skies and pretended
there were stars.

how young we were,
that summer.
lived and loved
with firey hearts
and wet lips,
shadows holding hands
under street lamps
and fluorescent walmart lights.

fell for you like a stumble
off a cliff and when I
read the freckles across your face
by the light of the moon
and we argued over the existence of
aliens,
               look, they're right there

soco amaretto lime,
the anthem of our night time
wanderings through the streets
where we grew up,
tripped over my words
like the curb I couldn't see
in the dark, never been out
this late before.

same time next week?

plastic stars on the ceiling of my bedroom,
without my glasses look like splotches of a galaxy
painted a million miles away.
.
take off your glasses and
marvel with me
at the plaster planetarium of my room.

she's 18 and falling for me.
she is not my moon
she is my stars.

I like the stars.

she's 18 and falling for me.

and now I really am happy
and I really am healthy.

I made it.

I told her.
She likes me too.

how can I text you all day
without talking about anything
at all?

can we please
discuss something
other than
what we had
for breakfast?

your crying, bright green, bloodshot eyes remind me of christmas in a sad way.
like shattered ornaments.

I really like you

like a lot

and I think you're super amazing and funny and beautiful and wonderful in basically every way and I care about you way more than is probably rational

I know you probably have no idea what to say to that and I'm sorry for the 5 minutes of awkward this is gonna cause

but I really needed you to know that

because you're really something special

and if there is any way I can ever help you be happy, or be there for you at all, I am 100% here

I'd like that a lot.

I'm not expecting any kind of response I just think that when you feel this strongly about someone you should tell them.

ok that's all

I think I'm in love with you.

"one day I will be the sun,
and I will burn brighter
than you could believe."

I am from Loony Tunes
And a red, two-seat jogging stroller,
Laughing with my sister
Sitting next to me.
I am from waking up to pigeons cooing,
Glow-in-the-dark plastic stars on distant ceilings.
When everything was new,
And bright, and fascinating.

I am from amusement parks;
Six Flags Picnics in parking lots
Because the food there was too expensive,
We brought our own and sat in the grass
With the ducks.

I am from homemade tortillas,
Fighting cousins and uncles like brothers for
The first one off the stove.
And I am from Christmas tamales
and way too much Thanksgiving turkey.

I am from music,
And the difference between hearing and listening,
And between reading and playing and feeling and living.
And not having a favorite song
Because they are all important
And they all mean something different.

I am from falling in love too quickly
With the girl across the aisle
Across the room
Across the street.
From holding my breath but not my tongue
And letting my mind wander a little too far.
"I don't like you like that"
"Oh that's okay I didn't think so anyway"
Is it wrong to feel too much?

I am from people mispronouncing my name,
Saying "here" before teachers can even attempt.
But I am from knowing I would never change it if I could,
Because if everyone could pick where they come from,
We'd all end up in the same place.

just a sophomore-now-junior who thinks too much, does too little, complains too often, and feels too strongly.

i still haven't come up
with a reason
not to like you.

the drawbacks of being mentally sound.

and now I make up rhymes
so I feel important to myself
but it's
whatever.