♡         You are only fifteen years old. You still have years, and years to be happy. To fall in love. To try new things and make new friends, and finally read that book or learn the words to that song. You have all the time in the world. But a lot of people forget that that time is still finite. And one day it will run out. "I've got time."
           "I'll do that next time."
           "Not right now."
           I'm writing to you to tell you not to wait. You are not stuck. You are not obligated to do anything that doesn't make you happy. More than anything, it is important to understand that the single thing what is most important in your life, is you. Recently, I've had a revelation as to what the purpose of my life is: to fall in love with the world.
           Tonight, the sun will set and tomorrow it will rise again, and that's not something to sigh about. It's not something routine. "What's the point? Everything stays the same anyway."
           The world, your life, your needs and you are constantly changing, and if you don't look up every once in a while from your cushy, comfortable life - if you don't appreciate the growth of the world outside of your own bubble - then you're going to wake up one morning very, very confused.
           Don't take the sun for granted. Don't take your sun for granted. Don't take yourself for granted. You owe it to the world to love yourself.
           Please, do not be afraid of change.
           Please, do not choose what is the most comfortable if it is not what makes you happiest.
    
        
         Please, love yourself. You are all you have left when the sun doesn't rise.

you're beautiful with makeup on, too.

and now it skirts away
into the gulf of apathy that is my
default setting.

I guess it was as fleeting
as the sand in my hair:
the fascination:

it subsides from
my mind
like retreating

tides, leaving dark colored
shells half- buried in the sand.
         this one's my favorite

I thought maybe you were it.
my bad.
the humidity got to my head.
my bad.

the humidity got to my head.
my heart.
forget it.
the humidity got to my head.

forgotten.
done.
I won't anymore.

but your beauty is perpetual as the moon.
walking on the beach
or sitting next to me in class.

perpetual,
what's the difference
your eyes reflecting the ocean
or fluorescent lights, too bright

what's the difference
perpetually
you
are
beautiful

chasing laughs around my head
your smile lights
the lenses of my glasses and

your name lights up my
phone screen and I stop
whatever I'm doing

is this real or am I imagining it
I want to
forget it
no
forget it
no

I wish I had more time.

I'm in love with the way you
laugh
and your smiling
eyes.
dear god you are perfect.

sand in my bed
clouds set in my head

"she's not just a girl, in my eyes. she's, like, a symbol of beauty in the world."

hard to imagine
             remember
a time when you weren't
a distant voice weren't
a million months away

a time when your head
rested on my shoulder.

(come to think of it,
mine rested on yours
more often.)

I don't remember.
this is all I know.

weird to think
I loved you

once.

cherry-flavored memories
stain my mattress like
watercolor *****.

voices haunt my headspace
I see people in the dark, moving splotches
on my walls
save me the monsters are coming.

horizontal kissing
playground platform
dirt and *** and sand
between your

green blanket
green tea
green is my favorite color
green eyes
sometimes brown
depending on
the light my
hands belong here
this is mine what's
yours is mine and I
abhor your past
adores him like
a moth adores a
flame and
I'm the smoke
and you're a joke
and life's a game
but you don't want to
play anymore
so you

split your skin
as easily as his words
cut through
your chest
**** that i'm going home
and I won't stand to watch you
throw your life away.

I can't save you so
I'll close my eyes,
or look away or leave the room your
EYES BURNED INTO THE BLACK
OF MY WALLS AT NIGHT
WHEN THE MONSTERS COME
AND I HAVE TO TOUCH HER FACE
TO KNOW SHE'S THERE AND
FEEL HER BREATH AND COUNT
THE STARS ON THE CEILING
OF MY
yes I'm doing fine.yes I'm sure.

I don't remember her
I saw her yesterday
her hair was a lot longer
I don't remember her
favorite color
or what she smelled like.
yes I do, blue, and red.

she wore a different perfume once and I told her
I liked it
so she wore more the next day
and i suffocated in strawberry
and held my breath when i held her hand.

she was my first kiss and i was better than she was she just sat there.
a year later she'd tell her friends i was a bad kisser.
*******.

i tried to talk to her once to make sure she didn't hate me and i got cold silence so i yelled at her and called her names because that's how you handle those kind of situations when you're fifteen and don't know anything about love.

13 months with her and all i learned about myself was that i didn't like her very much, but i liked myself too much to let her go.

her parents were very religious and told her in passing once that anyone she dates has to also be very religious. i was not religious and we had started dating six months before. she tried to get me to find God when i told her i didn't know where He was. i cried, and told my mom.

"if we're not getting married then why are we dating"
"we're in middle school"
"but whats the point if we're not gonna get married why am i wasting my time"
"the point is to have fun and figure out what it's like to be there for someone. the point is to start to try to figure out what love is supposed to be"
"maybe we shouldn't even be dating then."
"if you think that you're stupid.  you're literally 13 years old. calm down"

we dated for seven more months after that.

when we broke up she cried and i didn't, even though shes the one who broke up with me. I'm glad she did, because i probably never would've. not so much a coward as i was fourteen years old. we tried to stay friends but that never goes well, as i know all to well by now. but then, it seemed like the most possible thing in the world because we weren't everyone else. we weren't movies, we were us and we were strong and we survived 13 months.
we didn't realize that we only lasted that long because we never told each other anything.

middle school relationships are **** anyway, youre probably bored of reading about this petty **** that actually doesn't matter at all. but i guess my point is that i still remember all this ****. i still remember. i haven't spoken to her in over a year but i still remember her favorite color and how before i fell in "love" my favorite color was grey, and then it was blue. i still remember how i'd laugh at the music she listened to and she'd get mad at me. i still remember the time we got caught making out under the bleachers, which apparently is something that people actually do. i still remember sobbing on the bathroom floor over her on april fools day, and opening doors for her and sitting next to each other in Spanish class.

these are all stupid things but we were stupid then so its all we had.

i still have all of it,
so i'll still have yours too.
ill see you in two years and your hair will probably be a different color
and ill still have all of it.


i don't know if i want it.

Lying on the floor
Smells like coffee and peppermint
Bells are ringing

and she's probably getting ****** (up) right now

rest in peace
the girl I used to know

she has your body but not your face.
what does that say about us?

when the lights are off the music
is louder the blanket
is smaller the voices
are lower my hair
is softer the world
is bigger your face
is blurrier my mind
is opener my heart
beats stronger

what do u think the purpose of life is

I don't mean like humanity's purpose as a whole. just like the purpose of one persons individual life

I think the purpose of life is just to be happy

and even in like 4th grade ppl would like ask "what's the purpose of life" and have these intense conversations and I didn't understand what the question was

bc it was pretty obvious to me that you were just supposed to be happy

and everything that we do is just a step in reaching eventual happiness

but now I'm rethinking that and I don't think the goal is EVENTUAL happiness

but rather perpetual happiness

why should I suffer now? I mean

like love is a **** thing that hurts like hell

but ppl go through it bc they hope that it'll make them really happy for the rest of their life

but I've been realizing lately that while love is the answer to happiness, that love is not at all necessarily for another person

but rather love for your own life and the world in general

this sounds totally fake and cheesy but

like I realized the other day this is the first time in like 3 years that I've been without a girlfriend and I'm having to regain my independence and love for the little things in my life

like my friends and good food and literally just the thought of taking a walk before the sun comes up

and skype calls with ppl who I really enjoy with my window open and the lights off and forgetting that it's not summer

and not having to tell someone "I'll brb I have to go eat dinner I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'll be back soon"

and falling asleep whenever I want

and waking up without wanting to throw up

it makes you realize "what the **** was I doing"

and then another part of you answers the question.

"being in love, *******"

"forgetting to love yourself"

"thinking, someone else will love me. I don't have to love myself"

I don't know what I thought a relationship was supposed to be before now but it was so wrong

that was toxic, and I am so much better off loving myself than loving her

Why is everyone so depressed?
Why is everyone so stressed?
Why is everyone so scared?

What the hell is going on with today's youth?

Your loss.

I need
loud music
better friends.

turn in your chair to see her
catch her eye she smiles
do not look away.

her eyes heal.
make you

forget
      your
             self
your
                              

              . problems

I
sleep better
now.

changed my sheets and forgot your name.

ok

what's the difference between feeling everything
and feeling nothing?

I hop e I . make yo u sad
some tim es

at once.

you tell me you love me but
more than just your shadow
dances with another.

how does that work

JUST NUMB IT WITH LOUD MUSIC
AND **** IT WITH FIRE.

Everything I write makes me sound self-important,
So I’ll write about something that’s not me.

she does not have a face.
she does not have a name.
I do not know what she looks like,
how her eyes refract morning light.
I do not know what her laugh sounds like,
or how she answers the phone.

I do not know what color her skin is.
I do not know how she will take her coffee.
I do not know if she will drink coffee at all.
I do not know if she moves her mouth when
she reads to herself.
does she know how to dance?
does she love to paint?

will she like roller coasters
and cartoons?
Whataburger and late night rendezvous?

will she like rhyming poetry as much as I do?
will she hate it, as much as you may?
I’ve abandoned all structure,
First, third, and second person.
What even is this?
It’s 1:16 am right now
And I’m tired
But ***** it
Let’s write down some more things
I don’t know about her.

What will she study?
Does she like science and math?
or is she a freak who likes history?
Will she understand my repulsion to Styrofoam?
from which side does she peel a banana?
does she sleep on her back or her side or her stomach?
How much do inconsistent capitalization patterns bother her?
Will she understand that I am marvelously hysterical?
And that no one should seriously use the word ‘marvelous’?

What color are her eyes?
What color is her toothbrush?
What color is her hair?
What color is her favorite shirt?
What is she thinking right now?
What is she doing right now?
I’ll ask her in 15 years.
Maybe she’ll remember.

How many hearts has she broken?
How many times has hers broke?
How many summer nights were spent outside looking out
At the limitless sky wondering if there are any stars left or if all the lights in the sky are now airplanes?

Does she think about me?
Is she asleep right now?
Does she live down the street?
Does she live across the country,
Or a few towns over?
What’s her first initial?
Does she believe in aliens
Or is she wrong?
Does she appreciate this poem’s organization?
This isn’t even a poem anymore and to call it that was offensive.
Sorry.
Goodbye poetry.
Get it?
Because it’s hello poetry but like, not.
Ha, I love myself.

.

Does she love herself?
Yes.
Yes she does.

.

Streaks of light.

.

Orange hazes through closed eyelids.

.

Counting cars, watching headlights.

.

Wondering to where everyone speeds off.


//


Lose count.

.

Resort to counting freckles

On your nose.

.

Your face is lit by

Passing cars and

The highways in your eyes.

.

a sodden trampoline
in the backyard
after it rains.
wet grass,
bare feet,
watching from
the screen door,
yelling through
cigarette smoke,
you'll catch a cold
but
let him live.*

he wants to fly,
forget gravity,
because he's nine
and loves to feel
like
he's
falling

like he's
dancing
in the clouds,
                 
                                      ­   take my hand,
                                         fly with me.
                                             listen to wind
                                   and outside songs.

                                  squeaking springs,
                              can’t hear my mom or
                                              the tv inside,
                                                     blaring.
                                        
                                       *take my hand.    
                                   fall with me 
                             into my seldom seen,
                                  sodden
                  ­                      trampoline.

thrashing
writhing
twitching
your breaths are
silent screams of
hot air and spit
and then
broken throats
you're imploding
because exploding would
be too loud.