Begin with
something
broken—

a bone,
a heart,
a home—

collect
the pieces
carefully

and work
them over

over time

tumble and polish
tumble and polish

make the pain shine.

first you need to pick a red flag of a boy.
make sure he's got beautiful eyes,
and a smile you can write poetry about.
actually,
make sure he is poetry--
find metaphors in his dimples and
similes in his crooked teeth.
the catch is, he can't be a good one.
he must have a tragic flaw,
something your friends can't stop pointing out to you.
for now, ignore those warnings and just focus on him--
talk to him whenever you can,
think about him,
write about him.
become drunk off his voice and imagine what his lips taste like.
fill your daydreams with phantom thoughts of him,
months & months flying by until
you can't imagine life without
the beautiful boy in the grey sweater.
now remember--
you're not actually with him yet,
yes
this builds the suspense
makes you wonder
if you'll ever actually taste his lips.
so keep your comfortable distance,
give him time
to make up his mind
if he wants to date you.
yes,
you've heard how he is with other girls,
you've heard what he's done to their ****** hearts
but oh never
could this boy do these horrendous things
he's too pure
says all the right things
but oh always
is the question banging in the back of your skull, now you MUST
give into those urges,
do it
feel it
ask it, ask him if he's
ever
going
to love you.
but you'll wish you hadn't,
because the hesitation will already be out of his mouth
before you can take it back,
his next words along the lines of:
"i thought we'd maybe just
have some fun together, if you know what i mean"
and the broken angel he's been hiding from you
for months,
the monster your friends have been warning you about
for months
will finally be brought to the light.
and that splitting pain of betrayal will come flooding in--
i'm telling you
this is a surefire way
to break your own heart.
-a.c.b

i am from innocence.
i am from rainy days and lonely nights,
words smeared across pages because
i can’t get them out fast enough.
i am from stanzas upon stanzas and ink-stained fingers
as i dream of new ways to say what’s already been said.
i am from words of love, words of anger,
struggling to find the words
to describe his eyes, i can’t.
but that’s okay, because to me, he is poetry
and
poetry has been the one consistency in my life.

i am from travelling the world.
i am from plane rides-
from the mountains of Italy
to the city of Lisbon
it’s safe to say
i have lived.

i am from 4am small talk with my best friend,
questioning our life decisions
between cheesy rom-coms,
thanking Fate and the Universe
for introducing the two of us.,
i love her
for accepting me
when i couldn’t accept myself.

i am from my dad’s famous waffles,
from Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven
and cold glasses of milk coming home from school.
i am from my grandmom tucking me in,
my mom hugging me goodnight,
my sister and i staying up way past when the lights were supposed to be turned out.

i am from New Year’s Eve countdowns,
pots and pans banging on my front porch
as a new set of resolutions
hangs in my room,
waiting to be broken.

i am from a school full of jerks… that i fell for anyway,
empty words and velvet lies, luring me in
just so i can break my own heart
at the end of it.
but i am from believing in soulmates,
because two live in my very house with me,
23 years later and the flame hasn’t diminished-
i know
i will find my Prince Charming,
somehow, one day.

I am from creased brows and mild confusion
when the teacher asks for strong boys
to carry the desks;
i am from being resigned to the edge of the classroom,
implications that
i am weak.
i am from “sit like a lady”
and
“young women don’t speak like that.”
but actually,
i am a young woman
and i’m
“speaking like that.”
i am from being the only one in my karate class
with my toenails painted pink;
they have accepted me now,
i am just another black belt,
my long hair swishing behind me in a ponytail
as i kick harder than half the boys next to me.

i am from beautiful chaos,
like entropy
in a sundress. i think
my madness is magnificent--
like the prettiest mess you’ve ever seen., it’s true-
i am from a lifetime of figuring things out
and though i’m not there yet,
i’m a hell of a lot closer
than i’ve ever been.
-a.c.b

I'm jealous of the rain
It gets close to you
Closer than I ever will
It touches your skin
It combs your hair
It comes when you're sad
It stays when you're happy
I love you but you don't love me
So I say
I'm jealous of the rain