you are endless wordplay recorded over a blank coffeeshop soundtrack. your lips throw out pun after pun, but your throat hums to the ghost of a song you swore you didn't listen to.

you are smiles across the breakfast table, blinking too-little sleep from your too-bright eyes, talking too loudly about how you don't need rest when you can get drunk on life. i laugh quietly. the dark circles give you away, my dear.

you are long nights and warm blankets and repeating "we should go to bed" until it sounds like a joke. it is hard to fall asleep when the blood is singing in my veins and my dreams are coming true right in front of me.

you are soft corners and sharp edges, too strong to stand firm and too fragile to break. your footsteps falter and even your confidence has cracks, but i'll admit it's comforting to know that you're just as scared as i am sometimes.

you are fast-talking and over-explaining, and you never do anything halfheartedly so you are also lying-too-easily. but it's okay i never wanted the truth anyway, i hated how it dimmed the memories and haunted the empty space on my mattress. i like how that space is taken up by the curve of your body instead.

you are called a paradox, white wolf or black sheep, predator and prey at odds and at peace. and you are called downward-flowing, like the way i am falling faster and harder for you. then again, maybe i like metaphors too much. maybe your name is just a name. maybe it's the most beautiful sound i've ever heard.
but i call you love because you are the only reason i have any inkling of what it means.

missing you comes in a hurricane
all-powerful and all at once
memories beating me down as i collapse, head tucked between my knees
and the silence is filled with dread rather than peace
because the eye of the cyclone only reminds me of the look in yours when you turned and slammed the door on your way out

missing you comes in thunderstorms
lightning flashes of anger
why was it my fault when you were the one who left me to drown, you knew that i hated crying for help but did you know i screamed for you that day, i begged you to come back, i begged you to stay, is that why you cannot stand to look at me
well *******
how dare you throw me a lifeline when you were just waiting to let go of the other end

missing you comes in tidal waves
ebbing and flowing less frequently
but the pain is still there, not when the sadness hits but when it leaves
where are you going, please come back
for the salt burns my skin and water chokes my lungs
but they are only things keeping me from drying up on this desert shore

missing you comes in an afternoon shower
very rarely and unfamiliar when it arrives
all i remember are colors
jagged red lines, a black soul, and slate-blue eyes that looked like the lovechild of burnt charcoal and ocean floor
i hope it means your ashes will be buried somewhere you can't poison anyone else

missing you comes in the leaky garden hose
but we have automatic sprinklers now and i don't need to water the grass anymore

i. I can no longer tell if your bright eyes are reflecting the sky or just hiding your sadness

ii. the rest of the world still believes you are strong
but I cannot shake the sound of you crying on my voicemail
the night you tore down the last remaining wall between us
and now I know why you prefer to travel the forest by night, running aimlessly to find a place called home
for they cannot hurt you again if they cannot find you

iii. they keep saying that the darkness is your fault
and it breaks my heart to know that you have started to believe them.
look in the mirror, angel
you have only ever been the light in these shadows,
and you wear galaxies as a crown, with comets weaved through your hair like silver braids

iv. there will be evenings when you can't help but howl with the wolves
and send out every arrow you have, hoping they will find the broken dreams you lost so many years ago
but remember, if all that comes back is the echo of your voice and an empty bow,
it just means that you have the universe and a lifetime of days to make new ones

v. I don't know why peter pan tried so hard to catch his shadow
because even the moon hides its own like a well-kept secret
and yours is the heaviest, my dear

vi. but when the yelling never seems to stop and all you can hear is
worthlessuselessworthlessuselessworthlessuseless
when your hands close involuntarily into fists,
and the skin on your wrists start to look too white
when your voice gets stuck in your throat because the anger chokes you
I hope you force yourself to exhale
I hope you continue to hold your breath in freeway tunnels and wish on the first star you see
I hope you still find hope
because you are the one who gave it back to me almost seven years ago

vii. and if nothing else, I want you to know:
I think I've figured out why there is a sun in the middle of your name,
because I can count on one hand the number of happy memories I have tucked away for safekeeping
and in my nineteen and a half years of living,
you have been the star of all of them

to the messenger of Olympus:
do you tire of never being able to speak for yourself?
does it still sting every time you are told that what you want to say isn't important?
i know what it's like; I spent years with my mouth squeezed shut, hushed into perpetual silence and forced to live a life written by someone else

but i suppose we all have our own heavy burdens
and sometimes all we can do is find comfort in other things
so Hermes, love, tell me
how incredible is it to have the world balanced on your fingertips?
do you still get a thrill from jumping across oceans and stepping over islands as easily as cracks in the sidewalk?

god, how i wish that i could do the same, that i could walk 5351.82 miles as easily as walking down the street
for i have found my comfort too
a boy who tugs on my heartstrings and my vocal chords
and even though I never had trouble swallowing my words before,
with him, it's like they can't help but leap out of my chest

so Hermes, love, is there room in your bag for just one more letter? is there time for one more stop on your delivery route?
it will be the eve of New Year's Eve and the moon should be dancing on the Thames when you arrive
i hope that he is dancing too

and if you get a chance, just please tell him this:

i miss you
i know i say it too much and too often and it doesn't change the fact that you're not beside me
but i miss you
and i'll admit that i get panicked sometimes when it's hard to picture your face and I worry that I haven't memorized it well enough
there are moments when I have to force myself to remember how your eyes have a little bit of green in them, like fresh cut grass in the spring, or how your hair always sticks up a little in the back

some days I get scared that you will forget about me
other days I call myself foolish for worrying
worst are the days when I begin to wonder if maybe it would be for the best
after all, my mother always told that too much of a good thing could be dangerous
but it seems I am much too selfish to give up the best thing that's ever happened to me

so instead i'll just look to the stars
the same ones that have already shone above you eight hours ago
and i'll pray that you can hear me wherever you are

this is for the dangerous nights when you are scared to be called beautiful:

darling aphrodite,
I am sorry for all the times you have been called out as an object of another's amusement
and the countless times you will be treated like one
I know, I know, it isn't fair
and if I could, I would stand by your side forever to protect you from the monsters with cruel human faces

but right now, all I can do is remind you that you are worth ten thousand times more than ignoring catcalls in darkened alleys
planning escape routes on the way to the car
gripping pepper spray because your life depends on it
fearing for your safety every time you walk out the door

because my dear, you are the buck that will impale him if he dares to make a wrong move
sweet thing, you are the poison in his veins that will take him down from the inside out
hot stuff, you are the inferno that will consume his rotten soul and dance on the ashes
**** lady, you are the epitome of what it means to be the female ***: strong and clever and indestructible


but baby, I also know how hard it is keep smiling
especially when rest won't come and everything feels wrong and you are surrounded by people but feel completely
utterly
alone

so this is also for the lonely mornings when you wish you could call yourself beautiful:*

darling aphrodite,
who convinced you that your worth was only as deep as the fragile shell that traps your soul?
who taught you to focus on the color of your eyes rather than the quiet determination inside,
the glow of your hair rather than incomparable mind underneath,
the curve of your lips rather than the powerful voice behind,
the smoothness of your skin rather than the goddess within?
who decided that, despite the sturdiness of your fist and the unquenchable fire in your chest, the only thing you'd be useful for was to look pretty?

my love,
although I know you can sometimes feel pretty scared of failing,
pretty sad at night when you can't fall asleep at 2am,
pretty disappointed by the ones who left without looking back,

you are also pretty strong
pretty intelligent
pretty important
pretty loved
pretty incredible

and if there is one thing you take from this, I hope it is that
you were made for many reasons: to dance and paint galaxies and wish on shooting stars and love more deeply than anyone ever thought possible
but the one thing you have never been and were never meant to be is *just pretty

my dear Atlas,
have you grown weary of your burden yet?
it must be difficult when the universe is expanding more than half a million kilometers per second
and countless lonely teenagers send up the heavy weight of unheard prayers each night
(I will admit that I am one of them)
but you powerful titan,
I hope you realize that it just means you are getting stronger with every passing moment.

my dear Atlas,
for centuries, artists have painted and molded sculptures of you standing tall, holding galaxies with a proud look on your face
are you terrified of disappointing them?
does it scare you to admit that you are actually on your knees, using every ounce of strength just to keep from collapsing?
I bet you think the only thing worse than the gods' vendetta is the threat of failure
but you relentless force of nature,
your breath moves mountains and your arms are stronger than supernovas
so don't worry,
even when you falter, we all just get one inch closer to touching the stars

my dear Atlas,
is it your sadness I taste when the raindrops hit my tongue?
are there permanent stains on your cheeks from crying when you thought nobody was watching?
I'm sure the emotions overflow at night sometimes, when the world sleeps and no one can hear your loneliness
but you brave fighter,
I hope you have learned by now that it is not a weakness,
not when your tears are storms that water the earth and remind the flowers to grow

my dear Atlas
are the earthquakes caused by your legs trembling in pain?
darling, I know it hurts to keep the darkness at bay just to protect a planet that no longer believes in you
but you quiet superhero,
take a deep breath and play with the constellations for a while
draw your own masterpiece with the meteorites
please, take one short second to realize that the weight on your back is the most beautiful thing anyone will ever experience

one last thing, my dear Atlas
will you let me confess something?
I think I am in love
or at least pretty close to it
but the weight of it feels heavier than your own,
because he is afraid I will break his heart
and I am even more worried that I will disappoint him first

so I just have one more question:
can you teach me to believe all the things I have taught you?
show me how to carry someone else's happiness on my shoulders,
reassure me that the beautiful boy who kisses my hand is worth more than the fear of getting hurt,
give me the strength to hold him close when every inch of my body shakes with the fear of not being good enough,
remind me that even though everyone from my past has run away from my broken glass heart, that doesn't mean he won't be the one to piece me back together.

lie to me if you have to.
for he is the best thing I've ever been able to call mine
and though it defies the unbreakable law of entropy
I could swear, the moment we met, all the planets aligned

I can't quantify the eternity I've spent in your arms
but my calendar defines it as
four weeks of sleepless nights and waking up without regrets
thirty one days of memorizing the lines of your chest and the rhythm of your racing heartbeat
seven hundred hours of laughing at nothing, simply because my overflowing happiness needs to spill out somewhere
forty five thousand minutes that I couldn't imagine spending with anyone else but you

but time is a funny concept in many ways

because I could spend seven days without leaving your side and the lightest touch of your hand would still make my knees grow weak,
because there is something terrifying about the thought of being apart for more than 24 hours that puts me in a hopeless daze,
because sixty minutes of listening to you talk is enough to convince me that I'll never settle down until we can call the night sky ours,
because a mere sixty seconds in your arms can make even the universe seem minute.

but even though its been more than two and a half million seconds
every morning you are always the first thing on my mind