He was the boy
Who you had to kiss first
And when you did
He’d make a sound of surprise
Deep in his throat

He was the boy
Who wove words into beautiful quilts,  
And could say anything poetically
But stuttered and tripped
On “I love you”

He was the boy
Who remembered everything
Birthdays and favorites movies and times
But never seemed to remember
How much you loved him

It’s a game of pulling petals off flowers
Murmuring “she loves me, she loves me not”,
As each frosted pink petal falls
And I think back
To the hugs
The presents
The tears and
The goodbyes
“She loves me,” I whisper as you hug me longest and last
“She loves me not” I choke out as you don’t bother responding
Each petal falls
One by one
Words falling from my mouth like droplets off a leaf
Few petals remain
Three, then two,
Then one.
She loves me…
Not.

Help me
Save me
I’m drowning
Hands reaching for the heavens,
Like a criminal caught.
My lungs scream and yell,
Almost as loudly as my brain.
My legs kick, strain; against these bonds that hold me
But my heart is at peace,
Finally letting the water fill me
Drown me
Its rhythm slows, calm,
And letting go,
I take
On
Water.

3 am is when the emotions come
Silver invisibility
Dark blue sadness
Lime laughter
Red anger, and
Ruby regret.

And when silver and lime tears drain
From gray eyes
Leaving tie-dyed streaks,
All that’s left is the anger
And sadness
And regret.

3am turns to 4am
The colors swirl around and around
Like a painters palette
And they turn to black
So dark it matches the night sky

And the black tosses and turns and
Rumbles and shakes until
Pale sleep takes over
and everything fades
Until purple dawn brings a new day

Growing up a swimmer
I always thought that the
worst way to die
was to drown.

But drowning in you,
with you,  
didn’t make me feel
like I was dying.

I felt like
I was living.