He came to my house
Wearing his dark jacket and
Cold fingers
With no prior notice.

The doorbell echoed at
Nine oh six
And my mom said she'd get it.

I was watching Netflix
And shoveling semi-melty
Ice cream into my mouth.

He said hi to my mom
And he rushed up the stairs
Into my laundry-flooded bedroom

He wrapped his arms around me
So tight that I wasn't keen to let go.

He smelled like bitter outside
And broken trees
And choking regret.

I smelled like
Fake roses
And ***** pajamas
That were freshly cried into.

My shirt sleeves were wet.

When he kissed me,
I tasted like
The aftermath of
Black cherries
And sad music.

He tasted like love.

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

I wonder if you’d want to know
I named all of my demons after you and
they haunt me in my sleep

when I was 14 I fell asleep in April and dreamed of bones and
I’m not sure I’ve really ever woken up since

when I lost 5 pounds I never saw a difference

when I lost 10 my mother said I was looking good

when I lost 20 she told me to stop and handed me food
and I became anemic

when I lost 25 I stopped drinking anything because
I felt water had calories

when I lost 30 my mother held me on her lap
and held my bones together for me

when I lost 35 I started fainting every morning and
the doctors could no longer easily find my blood pressure

when I lost 40 people started to stare and food made me cry

when I lost 45 it hurt to walk and to lay down
it hurt to eat
it hurt to breathe and
I started throwing up my empty stomach

the mind plays tricks on those that decide
nourishment is not needed

Eat.

Love makes me a liar
A wordsmith of beautiful lies
I already feel comfortable in the presence of denial
Because love makes me believe it is nothing
Love makes me skeptical and hopeless
It leaves a string dangling over a bridge
And I’m stupid enough to actually reach for it
It leaves me in a different time zone
I’m wide awake while he’s fast asleep

Love makes me smile at the thought
But then surprises me in reality

I’ve only been in love twice in my life
The first time love let me see him
He did not know I existed
I was in the 6th grade when I fell
For the boy who thought he was so cool
And I was just the invisible yet visible doormat

The second was in high school
I fell in love with the boy December once knew
It was the first time I ever uttered that phrase
“I love you”
And like every love story tale
You’d think love would interfere
But this time love did not let that ink spill
Did not cover up this lovely time written
Love did not do anything wrong
Because it was me who ruined a perfectly good love song

Love makes me numb but cry over false desires
It makes me roll my eyes at every painful, angry word
But cry over such a simple question
It lets me know that there is no target
No question, no answer, no abstract metaphors
No Shakespearean play that would appear
Because love shows us tragedy without it being poetic

Love makes pain my muse
It makes me look for another ******* inspiration
But love does not make me look in the skies
No, love makes me look in someone else’s eyes

And if you look at the truth of what love makes me
Love makes me human
Reminds me that perfect is non-existent
But it makes me believe we can find it in reality
So when love arrives welcome it warmly
Smile because love did not let you miss an opportunity

You used to give me butterflies
  Now you give me anxiety

I used to smile just thinking about you
  Now it fills me with anger

You used to make me cry with joy
  Now they're just tears of sadness

You used to be my reason to stay strong
  Now you're the reason I relapse

I used to imagine a bright future
  Now all seems dark

You used to be the calming voice inside my head
  Now its the one that screams that loudest

You used to always make me feel better
  Now you're why I hurt so bad

You mended my heart and made me feel whole
  Now you've broken it and left me in pieces

I used to write love poems about you
  *Now the only ones I could write are of pain