Our love
Could be contained,
And easily
Spilt over.

Sopping wet,
Soaking through
The elements of
Our environment.

You were the wind.
I was the waves.
Together we created
A hurricane.

Liquid love
Attempted to
Wash us clean.
It did not succeed.

Our love
Brought on
A flash flood.
There was no warning.

Thoughts concerning you
Have been absent

You were a brief moment
In what once was

I told you to come back...
And you have

But I am not sure
Why you're here

You may have made
My knees weak

Your delicate touch
May linger still

We might have made plans
To sneak away for a weekend

But those short-lived weeks
Haven't haunted me

I don't know
Why you're here

And I'm not sure
You know either

He comes back in flashes
Like mistakes I never made

I come across pictures
I tried to forget

Snapshots in the windy city
Cabs and train stations

I forgot that we wrote our initials
On a pizzeria bench

Forgot that your hands
Felt like a limb of my own

You felt just as essential
As an eye or a lung

I've been blocking out memories
Thoughts of what used to be

You took me to see my favorite band
Stood next to me while I cried

Put your arm around me
As they played their last piece

Remember when we were
Hundreds of miles apart?

You would fall asleep
During our videochat

But you didn't know that I
Would stay awake

Just to hear your heavy breath
Just to watch you sleep

I soaked in those moments
Tender like the flesh on your back

My mind has been trying
To block out

How it felt to sleep
Next to you

But I remember
Oh, I remember

I cannot forget.
I don't think I ever will.

The vape from your e-cig
Fogged up the windows

I wrote a story
Along each side of your car

Letters
Which formed your name

Handprints
To keep me steady

The air thickened with
My breath and yours

Your leather seats were cold
But your hands felt like summer

Fingertips left my skin
Hot with desire

The vapor
Leaving your lips

Reminded me of
Foggy July mornings

The stubble on your chin
Was like grass grazing my thighs

Your eyes were ever-changing
Like the sky before a summer storm

The air in your car
Was warm enough to melt the ice

Outside, temperatures
Dipped below freezing

Yet, with you,
Our time together was blazing

I had never met a man
Who kissed my insecurities,
Tended my distorted perceptions,
And traced lips across my scarred skin.

I was worthy to be lavished upon.
In your eyes, I was more than a trophy.
My figure was temptful but valued;
Every penny was well-spent.

You brought back what should have been.
My previously unmet expectations
Brought my hopes down;
Your gentleness built them back up again.

We may not have worked out...
But your pursuit taught me a lesson:
I am lovely and fine with being "incomplete"
Three adventurous months with you... were enough for me.

Impatiently waiting to
Use your only bathroom
I examined the curls
That shaped your hair
From across the room

You were
Exhaustion at best
Tired of me
Worn out from life
Exhausted with your routine

Your roommate finally
Left the bathroom to me
I freshened up
The air was hazy
The towels reeked with ****

I knew we were ending things
I left our aspirations
In the passenger seat
You kissed me goodnight
But I understood that it was *goodbye

There was something mischievous about
The ways of a lost boy

He was interesting and stubborn
Full of curiosity

His hair was constantly disheveled
Eyes changed with his surroundings

He was wildly lost
Yet no one dared to question him

I met him while I was adrift
Roaming through the city streets

He knew his way through the alleys
Led me and let me stay the night

His place was wild like him
Ivy crawled up the siding

But he knew how to treat a girl
Woke me with coffee and cream

This lost boy held my hand
As I made my own path

We were untamed together
Even while our time was short

He taught me the art of being lost
He showed me beauty in chaos

This lost boy was lost in the world
But I was lost in him

I realized we were temporary
When he explained to me
That intimacy
Took on one form: *****

It was more pleasing
To call me obscenities
Referring to me romantically
Felt "unnatural" and "dissatisfying"

To him, I was a fantasy
A tangible painting
But I knew he was momentary
Our fix was temporary

Late last night I had an epiphany. It could have been the cereal or the Siberia-like weather talking, but I had a newfound realization. It really was late. Late nights are great for overanalyzing. I could have been doing just that. Yet, this morning, I was reminded of my revelation.

You and I live in a generation full of selfishness. Narcissism in relationships, in particular.

That was it. That was my epiphany. Maybe I'm just late coming into the game. Maybe everyone around me made this connection before. But I hadn't.

I am patient. I like to think it's a positive quality of my personality. But, my patience tends to roll over into being a push-over. And all of the men I have been with treated me as such. Many of them used me for their selfish advantages.

Before I start ranting on and on and give you the backstory of each of my relationships, I want you to know that I'm focusing on what ended the relationship, or what caused the downfall. It was selfishness.

But, it wasn't outright selfishness. It was narcism in disguise.

Every "break up" conversation from his side started off with an "I'm sorry". Then, he would give me a bunch of half-hearted reasons as to why things weren't working out. Finally, he would end with an "I'm doing this for me."

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about being there for yourself. Sometimes, we need to find out who we are as a person. That exploration can be muddled when you're pursuing something new.

But as I was letting the cereal digest and watching the ice form on my windows, I finally realized it. Many men of this generation are selfish. Selfish to the point of self-sabotage.

Within the last year, I've briefly and not-so-briefly dated three men. These were their break-up lines:

Man #1. "This is the year I start getting into my major. I feel like I need to figure myself out. I'm doing this for me. I need this."

Man #2. "I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have tried to get into a relationship with someone right before I was headed back to school. I need to do this for me. I need to be able to figure myself out."

Man #3. "I've always felt trapped in Minnesota. I need to go to Arizona for me. I don't have time for you. I can't focus on a relationship right now. I need to focus on my life, my job, and my schooling, for me."

You might be reading this and thinking that I'm great at whining. I'm just a girl who's bitter, burnt out, or hurt over what once was. You might be thinking that I choose all the wrong guys; that I'm prone to "bad guys". But I'm none of those things.

All three of these men were different. All three came from different backgrounds, different states, were various ages, had various personalities, and different interests. Man #1 was shy to the nth degree. Man #3 was extremely outgoing. Man #2 was well-off. Man #3 worked a minimum-wage job and scraped by. Man #1 was an athlete at heart. Man #3 loved metal and Netflix. Every man was different... yet they all had one similar commodity.

They were selfish.

Each one asked himself, "what am I getting out of this? What's in it for me?"

Maybe I was intimate with them. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was the one with the car or the finances. Maybe I wasn't. The situations were different in each of the three relationships. So, I have a feeling that none of these factors influenced each man's decision.

They were selfish. That's the only way I can pinpoint the end of each relationship down.

I'm not saying that all men are dogs. I'm not even saying "To hell with men!" Although, a part of me understands that relationships weren't meant to be viewed with this mentality. The whole, "what's in it for me?" forefront is the exact opposite of what a relationship should be.

And that's where my conclusion stops. I've finally realized that many men of this age are egocentric... but I don't know what to do about it. I now know what I don't want in a relationship. Now, I can see the red flags clearly. But I'm unsure of where things are headed.

What I do know is that I won't settle for selfishness. I won't settle for a man who wants to know what he can "get" out of a relationship. I won't settle for a man who puts half of his heart into something and keeps the other half for himself.

I will wait for someone who is willing to ask himself what he can do for me... not what I can do for him. I will wait for someone who will put all of himself into a relationship. I will wait for someone who will leave his selfish mentality behind and put me first. I will wait.

Sure, no man is perfect. You might be thinking that I've put my standards too high. But I deserve high standards. I deserve to be looked at as rare, beautiful, and treasured. I wasn't meant to be cast to the side for selfish reasons; for "finding myself" or "doing this for me".

I was meant for more, and I won't settle for anything less.

Your first real love. The love who made life make sense. The love who sat next to you in silence just to be with you. The love who kissed your knuckles and your forehead. The love who carried you to bed when you fell asleep during your favorite movie. The love who was good until they weren't.

You shouldn't miss your first real love. After all, it ended so poorly. Either they cheated on you, or the two of you went your separate ways. Maybe one chose a career over you. Maybe they had no good reason to end things, but did anyway.

Yet, you're reading this; and you may still miss them. The late night phone calls. The good morning kisses. When they showed up with your favorite drink just because. You miss their laugh and the way their nose crinkled when they did. You miss the touch of their skin. You miss your first real love.

And it's hard. They might be on the opposite side of the world or a mile away. They might live in the same town or a few states away. You may see them daily on your way to class or to the copier. You may see them every few months and wish that you hadn't. You may only see them while you're cyberstalking them. But it's difficult, nonetheless.

Maybe it's even more difficult because they're so close. You wonder what it would be like to show up unannounced. Would they let you in? Would they tell you they were sorry? Would they say they missed you too? Would they hold you like they used to? Would they let you fall asleep on the couch? Would they be there when you woke? Or would they shut the door in your face?

Or because they're so far away... you feel like it really is over. You wonder how they live now. Are they still seeing their new lover? Are they sleeping around? Is that job working out for them? Is their life moving on smoothly without you?

So many questions. You over-think and over-analyze until you're turning in circles. You want answers to questions you may never get answers to. Maybe that fact makes you miss your first real love even more.

I'm gonna tell you that it's okay to miss them. It's okay to sleep with their shirt "one last time". It's okay to cry over them to that stupid early 2000's song on your way home from work. It's okay to see their car and wonder if it's them.

You'll have your good days. You'll even have your good weeks. You'll realize that many nights have passed without wishing they were sleeping beside you. You'll find yourself learning how to live life without them once more. Getting coffee for one - not two - will be second nature... and that's not a bad thing.

And when you believe that you've taken two steps forward and three steps back, you'll still pull through. One minuscule thing will remind you of them, and you may have a rough rest of your day, but you will make it.

After all, they were your first real love. It would be a shame for part of you to not miss them. They meant something to you. And you know what? You meant something to them.

You may end up missing your first real love for the rest of your life. You may go to your grave with their name on your lips... but I don't truly believe that.

You will grow. You will move past them. Life will run its course. One day, you'll learn to let them go. You'll learn to forgive them. You'll even learn to forgive yourself.

You'll miss them. And that's okay. It's okay to read this and continue to miss them. Just know that they're the one that should be missing you. After all, you were most likely their first real love.

There was a war inside my head
While I slept for twenty-four hours

I am great at isolation
And pretending short comas are standard

Actually, I was playing hide-and-seek
In hope of you finding me

I was playing pretend
Stuck inside a world of make-believe

These waves of swift uncertainty
Come crashing down in a few dark seconds

But it takes days for the waters
To reach previous tranquility

My roommate's questions are artificial
They "care" because they must

They know I get lost in a thick haze
More often than most

Opening the door to my bedroom
Is like entering the gates of hell

So, they stay as far away from me as possible
And allow me to sleep the heaviness off

Choking on words
Attempting to shove them down

Reliving the vision of you
Brings mixed emotions

We do not speak
For reasons continually multiplying

Yet I wish to tell you
Hurts unspoken

I dream of stopping you
In your tracks

Merely to tell you
Secrets left unsaid

"Your teammate's hands
Skipped consent

I cannot forget
The look in his eyes

His touch left my skin
Purple in places

He made me feel
Like I was the cause."

But dreams are
Only hazy

They're wishes meant
For the mind only

We do not speak
And I will not tell you

You will never know
Of bruises on thighs

We promised
Each other love

Vowing to take
Making it seriously

We were careful
And fully enveloped in it

It was good until it wasn't
Love making

We were explicit
Only once

But it was
Our final time

And I knew it was
Parallel to animalistic

Trying to shake
The empty feeling

Hoping I would
Sleep it off

My ghost is back
And his soft brown eyes
Are here to stay

Walking the halls
With him once more
Leaves me glancing over my shoulder

He watched me sleep
Last night
I awoke to his caramel skin

He shaved his ghostly face
He now looks like the man
I fell in love with

His coarse hairs
Are everywhere
I cannot rid of them

I'm cleaning the sink
And airing out my room
His ghostly scent won't fade

I've washed my sheets
A thousand times
Yet his arms continue to envelop me

He glances at me
From corners of the room
One look pierces me

His eyes...
I cannot forget them
It is impossible to forget them.

Your choices are amusing
Going every which-way
Certain you're refusing
A life of "everyday"

Explain a tight budget
And future student loans
Continue to spend hundreds
On ink and Patrón

Ruin relation with me
And your "handle" on addiction
Reunite with nicotine,
Whiskey and restriction

Encounter a crisis at twenty
Isolate yourself
No, you're not hiding
Resuscitate your hell

Walking through the flames,
Sabotaging your plans,
A smile on your face,
Proud to be a man.

Set the place ablaze
With callused bitter words,
Merry holidays -
Meant to be deferred.

Fed the fire impulsivity -
And hasty decisions.
Left me gasping for stability;
For smokeless oxygen.

Let the flames immerse
What was left of you and I.
Caught up in this curse
Of selfish goodbyes.

Decisions are kind of a funny concept. Some people believe that everything happens for a reason. Others believe that each decision has a domino effect on other parts of life. Have you heard of the butterfly effect? This idea believes that every decision leads to various outcomes, and that there are multiple paths a person can take. I like to agree with this statement.

Decisions are what make a person. At least, they're what show a person's character...

I observe ordinary character on a regular basis. I work at a liquor store in a town of roughly three-thousand people. I know the regulars by name, and I can tell who's had a rough day or who is excited for the weekend by what they purchase. I know when Barb is furious at her husband because she buys two liters of *** and the smokes he hates. I can tell when Dave is on good terms with his fiance because he skips the Fireball and heads straight for his 24-pack. Bob... is really just Bob. He comes in and buys a liter of coke, a liter of Bacardi, and a pack of Marlboro reds every day at 4:30 on the dot. Each of these regular's decisions display part of their character. Many of their purchases can be influenced by their emotions... but what part of life isn't?

You're probably wondering when I'm going to get to my point. That'll be a couple hundred words further. You of all people know how great I am at ranting.

How is my minimum-wage job connected to decisions and character? That's a good question. Each decision leads to a specific outcome. These decisions are based on the character of a customer. Their character is displayed in their decisions at my dead-end job. Anyway, back to your decisions.

Decision Making
Relationships are basically a hurdle of decisions. Deciding how to sleep together. Deciding the best way to kiss despite the height difference. Deciding what to say when meeting the in-laws. Deciding when to say "I love you". It's decision after decision after decision.

I like to think that each decision can lead to various outcomes. For example, if I would have never lost my virginity to a one-night-stand and cried about it to the girl living across from me, I would have never met you. So, if I waited to take off my clothes or if I cried about it to my roommate instead, this last year would have gone a lot differently.

I'm beginning to work my way to your decisions. First, let me state that you were the most indecisive person I have ever met. You were passive. You were lukewarm. You were flat. You were only certain on one thing: your admiration for college basketball.

I have to admit that you were decisive on your verdict to be with me... for a time. I guess I have to give you a little credit. You weren't all bad. There was a lot of good in you. But, there was a lot of rottenness underneath your tall, dark, and handsome physique.

The Beginning of the End
You decided to avoid a decision from the very beginning. Sure, it was me that you wanted. I mean, I was great. I still am. I may be biased, but I don't care. You wanted me... but you didn't want the price-tag I came with.

What did I tell you from the beginning? Let me refresh your memory. We were sitting on a lime green couch in the lobby of our college. It was close to midnight and I was exhausted but didn't want to be without you. I told you that I expected you to:

1. Be honest.
2. Be faithful.
3. Pursue me.
4. Make me a priority.

I didn't ask for much. I was searching for... Oh, I don't know, a relationship that sounded pretty standard in my terms. I wanted something serious, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't looking for fun or liveliness. These requests were normal, in my mind.

I then asked you if you would choose me over your mother. I knew you were close to her... and I hadn't met her yet. Also, for some reason, I already had a feeling that she despised the thought of me, and the idea of her little man bringing a girl home... (God forbid she have a brain on her head).

I didn't want to be tantalizing. I believe I am gentle in nature. But, if everything worked out, I wished to be the number one woman in your life... not your mother. I restated my question after a few beats and you continued to ponder the thought. After a few seconds you told me, "No, probably not. But I might change. I want you." That should have stopped me in my tracks.

But it didn't. We were together for about a year since that night. We kept things quiet for a few months before becoming "official" or whatever. Your decision or avoidance should have sent me running... and it did... to you.

I think part of myself knew that I deserved better. Also, part of myself believed that there was beauty in maltreatment. But, I saw potential in you. You were my best friend.

You were... I was in love with you.

I was willing to fight for us. I was willing to fight for you. I was willing to battle it out... and I saw myself coming out victorious, like the warrior I truly am... but, you were a battle lost from the very beginning.

Whatever "Fighting for Me" Looked like to You
Things got worse when confusion arose between your mother and I. She thought I was sleeping with you (when I wasn't). There was a lot of yelling... most of it was in Spanish. I was scared. I was petrified. She believed I was ******* up her perfect son. This put us on unsteady ground.

This was also the first time I saw you cry.

It was a battle between what she wanted and what I wanted. She wanted me out of the picture. I wanted you to stand up for me, and to stand up for us.

You chose me. This would be the one and only time I came out as the number one priority. I believe this was because you were over three hundred miles away from her piercing eyes and thin lips. It was easy to put us first when she wasn't there to "knock some sense" into her son.

Your mother didn't speak to you for months. She was furious. She was angry. Her dislike toward me grew with every passing day.

Letting the Bruises Heal
For the next six months, things seemed to get better. We fought but made up. We talked of the future while understanding that we were still young. We grew as lovers and as friends. We made promises and kept them.

But, the semester was ending. The snow was gone and the grass was nowhere near green. Three months of separation were just around the corner and I knew of the trials to come. I also knew that if we could make it through the summer, that we could last. That is, if we could make it with your bitter mother by your side.

Seperation Leads To...
Three months of fifteen minute phone calls every once in a while dragged on. I was patient with you. We were both working our tails off. I was taking summer classes. You spent any and all of your extra time off working for your dad or training for soccer preseason. Still, I was patient.

We saw each other twice during the summer. Those days were some of my happiest within this past year. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Those first moments of seeing you were like revelations. All of the time away made sense. The eight hour drive to see you made sense. We made sense.

It was during your stay at my house when I realized I didn't want to be with anyone else. Ever. It was the first time you told me you were in love with me. I felt the same. We didn't just love one another, we were in love.

It was during my stay at your house, a few months later, when I realized things were heading south.

Temptation
We fought. We fought a lot during the month before I drove to Wisconsin. It was almost daily. Somehow we made up... somehow. You were stressed and I was anxious. I was anxious and afraid.

But, I came down to see you, nonetheless. Most moments, I believed we were healed. We could conquer anything. Others... I knew your mind was elsewhere.

Although, when we said goodbye, I believed we were true. You made me a promise I was sure you would keep. Our goodbye was the second time I would see you cry.

Looking back, I think I know why. You were tempted. You were more than tempted.

Decisions and Indecisiveness
The day after I got back home, you said you "wanted to take your promise back".

Two days after that, you left home to go to a camp I knew nothing about. You "couldn't take your phone" but I knew better than that.

We went an entire week without talking. And I knew something was wrong. I had never felt so sick in my life.

You eventually returned home from camp. But, it took you two days to respond to me. Once you finally called me, you told me you "couldn't do this right now". Then you hung up. That's when I knew it was over.

I was furious. I was jealous. You were tagged in pictures on social media with a few girls in particular.

1. Phones were allowed.
2. You were awfully close to one girl.
3. You were lying through your teeth.

We met up on campus a few days later. I had a list of questions that just about vanished into thin air when I saw you. You were ruggedly handsome... And I was still in love with you.

You greeted me with a hug. I just about cried.

You explained to me that your parents gave you an ultimatum. It was me or college. Stay with me, and college was out of the funds for you. Break things off with me, and college would be paid for. You told me you chose college.

You explained how you "needed to do this for yourself".

You also told me you didn't love me anymore.

You decided against me.

The Entire Truth
I was confused. I was heartbroken. Nothing made sense. It was like you gave me a puzzle that was missing more than half of the pieces. I spent the next month trying put the thing together. I came up with one single solution... but I didn't want to believe it.

My hypothesis rang true through a friend. I believed you cheated on me. Yes, I was sure your parents pulled their big levers; but I believed you were hiding information from me. You were.

I can't go into the details because I don't know all of them. In fact, I probably never will. I've ran through every scenario a thousand times in my head, and I still come up short.

All I know are your decisions. Your decisions show your character. Your character is flawed. Your decisions broke a large part of me. I am still attempting to put myself back together.

Out of all of your indecision, out of months of tug-of-war, you were so decisive on leaving. You were set on cheating. If anything, I wish I could ask you why.

Why did I always seem to come up short? Why wasn't I good enough for you? Why did you choose money, college, and your family over me? Why did you choose her over me?

So many questions I will never get closure on.

Deciding to Decide
I have moved on... for the most part. There are still days (like today) when I miss you more than anything. But, I am stronger. I am certain that I was good enough for you, even if you couldn't see it. I am also certain that you were the first person I was truly meant to be with.

Remember when I mentioned the butterfly effect? I know that different decisions lead to various outcomes. We have the choice. We decide where our life goes (or we choose indecision).

Your decisions led to a different life. A life without me.

And I think, as of right now, I'm okay with that.

We were on our way back from the movie theater. "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" was all anyone could talk about, and I went to see it with you for the second time. It was during our drive home when I realized that our timing was off.

     We tried to make things work. We tried to make them work twice. But you and I were like messy children wreaking havoc into each other's lives, only to leave the place in a furry. We were the storm and the storm chasers. We were something chaotic and we loved to rival in the disarray.

     Again, I knew our timing was off. I knew it when you kissed me goodnight. I knew it when Han Solo was killed by his own son. I knew it when you put me on hold for the next two weeks. I knew our timing was off when I looked at you and came to terms with breaking things off.

     Really, looking at you was like seeing myself, but only in a more masculine form. We were each other's reflection in many areas of life. Some sections were good... others were flawed. But, when I looked at the scruff on your chin and realized that I didn't know if I wanted this to be my "forever", I knew we were off.

     There was a lot going into this whole "timing" thing. I was almost finished with my Bachelors, while you were just getting back into school. You were struggling with a dead-end job, and I was well on my way to the workplace. I was ready to settle down. You were getting ready to figure out who you were. I knew what it took to build a healthy relationship, but you weren't willing to put the time and effort into it. You see? Everything was... off.

     That didn't mean I wanted to be like ships passing in the night. I didn't want a few months of your company to end nowhere. I sure as hell didn't want us to turn into some sort of "life lesson" I would teach my kids about one day. I was willing to work on things. That is, until you didn't make me a priority... of any sort.

     And, we ended on a good note. At least, I like to consider it good. There wasn't any yelling or waterworks. We talked as we always did. We agreed to staying friends. As cliche as that sounds, I'm hoping it'll stay true.

     I hope you remember the good we had. Remember how it felt to hold someone and know that they understood you. Remember how it felt to laugh over mindless jokes once more. If anything, reminisce on the "sunshine" I was within the short span of our meeting. We both agreed that there was something or Someone pulling us together. There had to be some sort of meaning behind all of this.

     Recalling how it felt to wake up next to you was a dream in and of itself; one that may swing back around in a year or two. Part of me hopes that you will return a changed man. But... only time will tell.

Meant to be admired:
A new realization.
Destined for desire,
And mild fixation.

Perceive me as a treasure;
A fortune worth the toil,
A journey with grave measures,
A noble or a royal.

Make me a priority;
Send your love first-class.
Entrust me with the authority
To make this last.

Sew time and effort together,
Attach the mesh to me.
Become opposite of the weather;
Become unchanging.

Helplessly,
I'm falling
Terrified
Of the fall
Attempting
To enjoy it

Unsure
That I will love again
Actually,
That I will let myself love again
Really,
That I will choose to love again

One minute,
You drive me insane
The next,
I'm a fool
But, darling,
I'm hooked

Blue Swede,
Hooked on a Feeling
Coldplay,
Strawberry Swing
Stay Awake,
Ellie Goulding

Melodies
Connecting our hearts
Verses
Etched into memories
Choruses
Reminding me of you

This piece
Is one large mess
Thoughts
Wandering aimlessly
Continuously
Lost in you

Although,
I'm sure of the fall
Doubtless
In the way I'm feeling
Certain
You will catch me

I am told that I
Cannot make homes
Out of
People

That skeletons are
Too fragile
To withstand
Every storm

Yet, I called you in
Late December
And deemed you my
Potential home

I like to believe
These words are what pulled
You back into
My atmosphere

Although it is said
That homes cannot
Be made out of
Beating hearts and irises

I am striving to
Turn your flesh
Into my
Dwelling place

Your eyelashes are
The blades of grass
On the lawn
Out front

Your ribs are
The staircase leading
To rooms waiting
To be filled

I'm turning your
Flesh into
Our living room
Carpet

Your bones are
The walls which
Keep the two of us
Safe

They said it couldn't
That it really
Shouldn't
Be done

But I'm making
Myself at home
In
You

I struggle to write
Of soft sunshine

Moments petal-like
Tender slivers of moonlight

It's a drawn-out fight
Describing twilight

When lover's hearts ignite
Before whispering goodnight

Tend to rewrite
Words laced with delight

Of sheets purer than white
And kisses on lover's spines

I tend to overwrite
Then leave out the highlights

Lately, I have been postponing
Writing about the palms of your hands.

Procrastinating thoughts written down
Concerning the color of your eyes.

In fear of looking at you in a positive light
Once more.

You see, when I dedicate verses
To the specifics of your smile.

I tend to get caught up
In feelings of attachment.

And I live with the fear
That you will leave just as easily as you came.

I suppose I will let myself cling
To every lingering thought of you.

Allow myself to ponder the rasp of your voice
In the early hours of the morning.

Allot myself time to reminisce
On the tenderness of your touch.

Slowly, I am becoming more attached;
Sticking to you like sweet honey.

Your words are half of a chainlink fence;
And mine connect with yours exclusively.

Familiar with the fear.
Panicked by a box full of,
Roads unclear.
Sticks created due to torn gloves.

When things start looking up,
I find new ways,
To slip up.
Mistakes made in lingerie.

I was never enough;
Yet, believed it to be untrue,
While in the buff.
Performing our pas de deux.

Now, I am late.
Which is nothing new,
But other symptoms indicate,
This to be more than the flu.

Our family is known for,
Starting eager fires.
For ***** looks, uproars,
Unquenchable desires.

I am not an outlier.
This is standard, here.
When it comes to kindling fires,
We're legendary Shakespeares.

I bet your hardwood floor
Still supports that shirt.
Your maroon one I wore
After losing my skirt.

Now, your roommate is telling you
To help clean up your place.
Blaring "R.I.P. 2 My Youth".
Searching for what's been misplaced.

The dusty floorboards creak
Under the weight of it all.
It's only been one week
Since intimate nightfall.

You're wearing ***** clothes;
And you can't bear to do laundry.
Because once you start a load,
You'll have to accept the palm trees.

The desert that awaits you,
And the life you're leaving behind.
Telling me that, if we bump into
Each other, we won't be ill-timed.

I bet that maroon shirt is precisely
Where I left it.
Before you decisively
Determined we were unfit.

Lay down by midnight.
Take my phone off of "silent";
Just in case he calls.

I knew she planned on staying.
When she unpacked her belongings.
Mia told me she wasn't playing.
This time, she would cause the falling.

She woke me up the first night,
After he ran away.
Mia's chapped lips whispered our old times,
She reminded me of tooth decay.

For the next few days, Mia was my shadow.
Her doe-eyes trailed my every course.
Waiting patiently for me to plateau,
Before attacking without remorse.

Mia told me she was mending my cuts,
My battered heart, and my sliced legs.
She was making me whole with every hiccup.
He may have left, but she was here to stay.

We held hands throughout the store.
She helped me buy my favorite treats.
Binging together before locking the door.
Purging never tasted so sweet.

Mia held my hair and my pink tongue.
Her fingernails made my throat bleed.
Convinced me secrecy made this fun.
Our kneeling prayers were a mystery.

She wiped my tears with her acidic hands,
And whispered how much she missed me.
Mia uttered how only she would understand
My longing and misery.

I feel I am a true educator
Standing in front of my class,
And the time slips away.

A teacher when I fake a smile
For the sake of my students;
Unwilling to cry in front of them.

An instructor at heart
When I am willing to
Show that I am human as well.

A teacher in vulnerability.
Personable in profession.
Tenderhearted in being.

This year has taught me
How to find love
In the spaces between fingers,
In the shadows across faces,
In heated cars,
And in cool sheets.

This year has taught me
How to let love go.
When my second love
Kissed another.
When my almost love
Fled the state.

This year has taught me
How to love myself.
To cherish my laughter lines,
And each bite of food.
To soak in hot water,
And splurge every so often.

This year has taught me
How to hope.
Dickinson reminded me
That “’hope’ is a thing with feathers”.
My middle name is Hope.
Therefore, I will hope once more.

This year has taught me
That much does not last.
Shoulders to lean on are not constant.
Mortal forevers are
Just that:
Mortal.

It is still dark
When driving through the
Morning haze.

On my way to
A job that doesn’t
Feel like “work “.

Thinking of you,
And the way your lips
Fit with mine.

The sky turns pink.
I recall sleeping
Next to you.

The clouds are orange.
Remember my nails
On your back?

Atmosphere bright.
Asking, “What is love,
Exactly?”

The sun blinding.
Blazing I miss yous;
Bright goodbyes.

I’m at work now.
Fatigued; lack of sleep
In my eyes.

Up all night
Since you broke it off
Yesterday.

I’ll brew coffee
For myself; not two
This morning.

The sky is calm -
Ordinary day.
Naked eyes.

I miss you like
You missed the desert.
No surprise.

If I packed all my things
Would you hold my hand again?

If I showed up unannounced
Would you let me in?

If I called in a week
Would you let me hear your voice?

If I bought a plane ticket
Would you allow me the pleasure?

I was beginning to get used
To the thought of you.

But, currently, I'm confused.

You packed my things
While I was still in your t-shirt.

Boxed our tentative plans
With your hand still on my knee.

Piled up your empty promises
While your scent lingered on my skin.

Silently drove me home
Only to arrive elsewhere.

He caresses my jaw
Like fine china.

He gazes at me
As if I were rare.

My hands are shaking like
I'm going through withdrawals.

Knobby knees are weak
From the sheer sight of him.

I feel I am a mere mortal;
He is sure I am a goddess.

This poem is like one large knot.
I'm failing to unravel my thoughts;
Struggling to get my point across.

This poem isn't right.
Mulling the feelings over all night.
Revising only to continue to revise.

This poem isn't what I want it to be.
Typing it out before pressing delete.
Leaving each line incompl-

I see myself in her...

Back when I was made of ice,
Every slice and bite precise.
Grandmother's collarbones like
Soft skin cut by knives; birdlike.

I see myself in her...

The treadmill is her best friend.
Against herself, she contends,
Stuck in a world of pretend.
Her own skeleton: her friend.

I see myself in her...

Grandmother chilled to the bone.
Present summertime unknown.
She's carving her own tombstone,
Out of her sharp hipbones.

I see myself in her...

Was that how they looked at me?
With confusion and worry?
Was I the storm on the sea?
Or the dark depths underneath?

Afraid to drive north;
Highway leading home.
To my mother's porch,
Food I can't ignore.

This time late last year -
Planning for the flood.
The torrent of tears,
My throat red with blood.

Attempting to hide
My light-headed days.
Mother mortified
Of my dark gray haze.

The carpet soaked through;
Salty tears the cause.
The growth of mildew,
Over my clenched jaws.

Fearful to return
After the downpour.
A second downturn
Leading toward the war.

I am stuck;
Even in a world of "body positivity".
Continue to be lost
In my nit-picky ways.

Overcritical of
The "beautiful" rolls of my belly.
Picking at
The "lovely" flesh of my thighs.

Recovery should
Be a walk in the park.
The walk where I
Stop and smell the roses.

But it's a tiptoe
Through my every fear.

A crinkled face...
At every turn.
A piercing voice...
Invading my thoughts.

I might have
Put on the weight.
But I don't believe
Much has changed.

I tried to collect those moments
Like I collected sunsets.
Trying to save them in the mason jars
Of my mind.

The upward curve of his lips;
Pink clouds.

Eyelashes on my cheek;
Deep purple hues.

Those seemingly perfect seconds
Here and gone again.
His brightest colors; my favorite flashes
Shown in a instant.

Tender touches;
Vivid orange.

Soft exhales;
Pale blue.

I remember pieces of his sunset;
Snapshots of mine.
Perched in jars on my window sill...
Absent of time.

I'm not in love with him anymore,
But it's hard to forget...

The baby-soft black hairs
At the nape of his neck.

His sharp shoulder blades
And the scars on his back.

My fingertips recall
Each mole near his spine.

The span of his arms
So much wider than mine.

The dip in his back
And his caramel thighs.

My muscle memory
Is obsolete.

I'm not in love with him...
How could I be?

Yet, I can't seem to forget
Every delicacy.

The sun is dull.
Its absence depleting.

Exhausted,
Yet up all night.

Numb to the rain.
Desensitized showers.

Pained,
Yet without feeling.

Spices are flavorless.
Tastebuds waning.

Hungry,
But always full.

Eyelids are heavy.
Yet never resting.

Blank,
And tainted gray.

I sewed our love to my limbs...
For everyone to see.

Displayed the photographs and longing glances...
As a sort of confession.

I wrapped our relationship around me like string;
Tangled in a web of hopeful plans.

Adorned myself with imprints of your lips,
And labeled myself as yours.

I etched our memories into my skin.
Believing the marks and moments would last.

Painted myself with your favorite color...
To see myself through your eyes.

Blackened where each fingerprint had once been,
As a reminder of your touch...

I lost my second love,
And covered myself with what once was.

You're like an orange in the summer;
Brightest amongst the other fruits.
Ripe and ready;
Heavy with juice.

"Nothing is constant."
My mother's voice is squeaky yet soothing.
"You're learning a new concept."
Words try their best to move me.

"Afraid of commitment..."
Her ears are blush red at the tips.
"Anyone can work through distance."
My friend places her hands on her hips.

"He came, he saw, he conquered "
My mind replays each scene.
"Perhaps, he was made to wander..."
Curious and nineteen.

"We should stop seeing each other."
His voice distorted through the phone.
"I wasn't ready for a lover."
His disposition now known.

His fingers run through my hair...
Just as yours did.
Palms large and soft; the wind dares
To graze my skin.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

His breath on the nape of my neck...
Kissing furthermore.
Giving my nose a swift peck...
Rattling the door.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

Forming tears without trying...
Cold blow to the face.
He kisses before biting.
Nips in the same place.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

Reminds me of what once was:
Summer days... cold nights.
Whispers of our eros love...
Blown out candlelight.

The wind is a man; I wish he were you.

An era of feminism,
Which should never be questioned.
Empowering women
To strive, and strive again.

We speak of desexualization.
To free the ******,
Unveil carnal harassment,
And speak our minds.

But we can be sightless
Toward the sexualization of man.
The way we view testosterone
As broad shoulders and shirtlessness.

Do not sift through my words!
I believe in the power feminism.
But I am disappointed
With the sexualization of man.

We're determined to trump the blurred *****...
Yet drool over a man in Calvin Klein.
We frown upon the "Perfect Body" campaign...
But applaud a "built" man.

I wish for bodies to be just that:
Bodies.
For sexualized men and women
To be more than carved features.

He is the bottle of wine.
His quiet words filling me to the brim...
I may spill over.

Cautious are his fingertips;
Feeling like he's never felt before...
Taking his time.

He is the crisp Autumn breeze;
Welcoming the warmth of heavy fabric.
And gone all too soon.

His wit is automatic.
Intelligence and interest: in tune.
Thoughts do not displease.

He is an early Thursday;
Full of smiles and steaming cups...
Enjoying the stillness.

Thick in kindness like syrup;
Oozing with his sticky brilliance...
And I'm stuck, unafraid.

Standing in forty-degree weather;
Water threatening to change to ice.

Perhaps, the rain will cleanse me,
And I will feel pure.

Maybe their blackened fingerprints
Will fade away from my skin.

The grease from their selfish palms
Leaving without a trace.

If I stand out in the cold showers,
The storm may sanitize my soul.

And maybe,
Just maybe...

I will forget their selfish appetites.

You ask why I'm avoiding
Hands which frighten me.
You ask what you did wrong
After touching with self-indulgence.

You bring me back
To when I was nine.

I am a child
Begging... for you to stop.
Pleading;
Pulling large hands away.

But this time,
I'm nineteen.

I feel ***** once again,
And the tears aren't cleansing.
They are a reminder...
Of the innocence I never had.

Charming, he is.
Crisp like the Autumn atmosphere.

He isn't like the others;
Glancing over with greedy eyes.

Benevolent, he is.
Kind in his thoughts and actions.

Past lovers: selfish,
One-sided in their hurtful ways.

Respectful, he is.
Soft fingertips and gentle lips.

Tender to the touch;
Unlike their rough recognizable hands.

Gentleman, he is.
Holding my hand and kissing me goodnight.

Wanting to take things slow;
Unlike their eager palms.

Tranquil, he is.
Calming my nerves and fears.

Steady in his demeanor...
Constant to his very core.

I packed your red t-shirt away;
The last bit I kept of you.

Letting go is hard...
But trying to forget is harder.

I clung to that shirt for months.
It smelled of your skin.

But, when I wore it recently,
It felt wrong.

I was weighed down.
You... weighed me down.

I lifted your heavy t-shirt off my shoulders...
To finally feel free.