Do you remember?
Do you remember the hurt little boy crying in the corner over the pieces of his broken heart?
I do.
Do you remember that little boy crying over the loss of his innocence?
I do.
Do you remember that little blue-eyed girl quietly arriving and listening to him cry, trying to comfort him with all of her might?
Of course you don't but you know what?
I do.

Do you remember?
Do you remember how quickly she fell in love with him and his adorable imperfections and obsessions?
I do.
Do you remember how he seemed happy again?
I do.
Do you remember them holding hands for the first time, she made the first move, both of their hands nervous and sweaty?
I do, every little detail.
Do you remember the first hug, the first kiss, the nervousness of meeting the parents, the first date?
Why would you?
But I do.
Every day. every hour, every minute
I remember.

at every thought


my soul


sinks deeper



in to the depths



of my untouched skin

When I die, dear Mother
don't give my body away
to science.

I'd rather have it given away to poetry.

I want people to cut me open
and observe
how my bones were riddled with
melancholic verses of joyful pasts.

They have to see
the scarlet of my blood was the hue
I stole from the sunsets of
wishful thoughts.

Dear Mother,
give my body away
to the art of writing:
for they have to look past
everything they have ever learned.

They must know
of how much I loved and I lost,
and how that made the twine of my ribs
a story to tell.

there's a certain beauty in the unknown.
a certain beauty in not knowing if
you're as crazy about me as i am about you.

there's a certain beauty in knowing that
my heart is ******* in such a knot that even
a seasoned boy-scout would cringe at the sight of it,
all because of you.

so many nights i have spent looking at the moon,
hoping you were doing the same.

and oh-so many nights have been spent swallowing
pills with various numbers inscribed on their very surface,
just to try to forget about your absence.

but the thing about the unknown and drugs and the moon
is that none of them can even come close to the beauty
that you possess.