One by one,
I have watched each of my relationships dissolve into bitter words on my tongue,
Like "I still look for your face even though you're a thousand miles away."
"I am in love with someone who doesn't exist anymore."
"You are the one thing I regret giving up."
"Forgive me for destroying you. I didn't know to be with someone who wasn't as broken as I was."

So you'll understand why I say that I was never one for love stories.
Marriage vows sounded like the screaming echo of future arguments,
Kisses looked like purple bruises, rather than happy endings,
And the only absolute truth I knew was that getting everything you wanted was just a precursor to losing it all.

Which is why this is not a cheesy tale of romance
but of something much greater
Of friendship that could shatter the world with its strength
Of an empty shell of a person who only knew how to drown and the girl who taught her how beautiful it felt to burn
Of two teenagers who may be microscopic to the universe but are worth galaxies to each other.

This is seeing what love has the potential to be:
Thinking the same thing so many times we could fill an ocean if people still said "you owe me a soda"
Whispering into the phone at 3am to talk about high school drama and our favorite teachers and a boy we used to love.
Biting tongues so that our bursts of laughter don't wake up our roommates.
Talking about everything and nothing, all at once.

This is realizing that love is not companionship.
It is completion.

So this is to my best friend:
A long time ago, I made myself a new skin out of sandpaper and sarcasm to scare away anyone who could ever love me
But now, I have never meant anything more literally than when I say that I cannot live without you.
And if you are the story of my life, then I swear, it is the one that I will never stop re-reading.

breathe.
the clock slowly ticks down to end my twenty first year.
breathe.
i think i was expecting something a little more dramatic. loud music, flashing lights. at the very least a few friends beside me and a strong drink in hand.
breathe.
but maybe i don't need so much excitement anyway; i've had two full decades of it and it's been enough for a lifetime.
breathe.
in fact, i spent most of those years hoping that would be my entire lifetime,
so many times thinking i would die before this day
so many times desperately wishing i would die before this day.
breathe.
so maybe tonight's spectacle will just be the first breath i take to begin the rest of my life.
maybe it will be the fact that i choose to breathe at all.

...

breathe.
i am still here.
breathe.
i know now that wanting to die doesn't mean you hate life. and loving life doesn't mean you have to be scared of dying.

breathe.
i must keep reminding myself again and again that i am loved despite the fact that i'm alone on the couch with nothing but a blanket for company.
breathe.
the smiles of my friends flash before me one by one, loosening the knot in my chest.
breathe.
i know the planet is beautiful, but god, it cannot compare to the sound of my friends laughing, as if their joy were weightless. carefully, i stitch pieces of it into a patchwork umbrella for the next rainy day.
breathe.
i have looked love in the face and i am slowly thawing.

breathe.
i see again every time i fell on my face, every time i pushed someone else down trying to get up, every clenched fist and tightened jaw.
breathe.
i have had to fight too hard to get here. but i guess that really means i learned how to take punches and maybe throw one back every so often.
breathe.
my knuckles are constantly bruised and my skin scars too easily. i am not allowed to forget the hell i've dug my way out of, and i am thankful. it makes the sun feel a little warmer every morning.

breathe.
lately i've been speaking a little too quickly, tripping over words like the world's clumsiest track runner. there is too much going on in my head to keep up with my mouth.
breathe.
and is my voice too loud because people are complaining about how i can't whisper, also everyone else needs to talk so should i just stop now...
breathe.
...no, this is still a hundred times better than when i never spoke at all.

breathe.
i am learning how to gently fall asleep in an empty bed
breathe.
more importantly, i am learning not to call the bed empty when i'm already in it.

breathe.
it seems i have reached the age when my grade school self thought i'd be an adult with everything figured out. she is yet another person i have disappointed.
breathe.
still, i am slowly realizing that no one else really knows what they're doing either. and that's okay.

I have a friend who
Shines brighter
Loves stronger
Dreams bigger
Than most.

But this blinding star
Suffocates her radiance
Refuses to let the candle eat itself away
And she dwells in the comfort of midnight
The brighest eclipse

Because the truth is
She’s saving her beauty
To give to one who is the color of sky right before dawn
She gravitates toward shadows
And lights up only for the darkness

Now she has found her counterpart
He illuminates her world
Unveils her hidden spark
And uses it to ignite an inferno
But he battles a legion of demons
Trapped in a deadly war against himself

Only he can awaken her
His vibrant smile erasing her mask of smoke
And only she can save him
The blaze in her eyes conquering the monsters that creep in the corners of his mind

Some may think it’s sad
That they only burn together
When no one else is around to see

And others say it’s dangerous
That their intense blend of passion and pain could destroy the universe

But I think it is perfect
For their love has captured
The elegance of charcoal
And the purity of ivory
On a single canvas

So I guess it’s true
That night is the one true love of day
Too much darkness can be deadly
But too much light can burn you away

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.

When we reunite
It feels like I am looking through glass
A solid pane crystallized by weeks of separation.

I am terrified
That the minutes and hours we spent apart
And the distance that blocked our paths
May have severed our friendship completely.

After all
I am used to people leaving.
It is as familiar as the crickets that sing me to sleep
Or the canaries that sing me to wake
Though not quite as delicate and beautiful.

But it is her
My best friend
The one who loved me at a time when I didn't think anyone could
The one who had any choice of companions but chose me
The one who understands what I say...and what I don't say
The one who can ramble on for hours but instantly fall silent if I ever need to speak
The one who doesn't have to use words to promise that I will never be alone.

Can distance really break us?

I reach for her hands
My fingertips a whisper away from hers
As they touch
I find my answer.

“No.”
The barrier between us shatters.

And I realize that I am looking not through a window
But at a mirror.

i. There are moments when I think that I write until the words run into the ground. I reuse metaphors and recycle imagery until the English language is used up and nothing but compost. But god, it is like yours can speak life into being. They are a breath of fresh air in the cave where I’ve been hiding, and for the first time in a while, I remember what light tastes like.

ii. Every night I have tried desperately to feel something, anything, squinting at the ceiling to try to force a single tear out and pretend that I remember what emotion is. But you remind me what the ocean feels like on my cheeks.
And it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.

iii. Sometimes, the only reason I still believe in God is because someone had to have sent you here to save me.

iv. It’s been a really long time since I’ve believed a compliment. And it’s only because you have worked your way into my life well enough to know my imperfections and then continue to see beyond them.

v. I can see my future more clearly with you than with anyone else.

vi. I get into trouble because it seems I romanticize everyone who comes into my life, constantly thinking of them as a better person than they might be.
Except you. You are literally as amazing as I think you are. (And just as you are the only one who can compliment me, trust me when I say I know what I’m talking about when it comes to you).

vii. I swear, if my life ever flashed before my eyes, I would see only high school swim meets, camera-******* photo shoots, squirrel watching, Prom, late night conversations in the glow of the moon, and a brief glimpse of a girl struggling to read my clearly too-fancy name tag.

viii. I realized while writing this, that for the first time, I am actively trying not to be self-deprecating. I guess if someone like you can love me, I want to work a little harder to try as well.
You are right; we bring out the best in each other. For a while, I thought that I could only build others up by tearing myself down. But with you, I feel like we can take over the world (which we will). I hope I have loved enough to make you feel the same way

ix. Thank you. For all that phrase is worth and then a hundred times more. It cannot even come close to conveying what I feel right now, but then again, I was the one who was never comfortable with emotions to begin with.

x. I love you.

I am in love.
Not with the guy next door
Or the charming ****
Or even the bad boy

No, I am in love with the people on the streets.

I am in love with their smiles.
I am in love with their surprise when their casual How are you? doesn’t turn out to be rhetorical.
I am in love with their intense honesty when I ask them the same question in return.
I am in love with their hope when I meet their gaze, and they realize they might not be invisible after all.
I am in love with their inner artist and musician and scholar.
I am in love with their humanity

And nothing breaks my heart more than seeing their downcast gazes fixed on the hard, unfeeling ground
As if they don’t believe themselves worthy to be seen

I wish I could place them in front of a mirror
So they can understand just how beautiful they are
When someone else reassures them that they do exist.

I am in love. But I don’t know how to tell them yet.

i. (kc) was the catalyst
the first to convince me that I could be loved
and the only one to make me believe I was capable of loving back
...for about two weeks.

ii. then (jt) arrived
popular
suave
and dorkily crushing on the one girl who couldn't return his affections.
but it wasn't until the first time I heard my name and 'beautiful' in the same sentence
that i realized there might be faultlines in my heart
shaking the love out of my body like lunch money from a scrawny kid's pockets.

iii. the first time i broke someone
the process was anything but (sl)ow
and it was then that i realized
i was getting too comfortable sleeping with regret, curled up like a black cat beside me.

iv. fortunately for me
(je) had 20/20 vision.
he saw through the mask, forced me to face myself until i couldn't help but punch my own reflection
and though his words almost convinced me that i could be saved
his empty stare reminded me that i wasn't worth the trouble.

v. looking back, the initials should've warned me
that he would be the (ss) to our sinking ship,
that we were fated to drown.
but he was coldstronghard as metal
and it took me a two years, one month, and one day
to learn that even silver can be tarnished.

vi. the name was fitting, i guess.
(jr) was finer than any greek hero
and were he a god, I would've named the planets after him too.
he was as reckless as the roman empire
scratching himself on the thorns of my soul just to find something worth saving.
was it because of compassion or guilt or shame
that I put Ariadne's string in his hands
so he could navigate his way out
and run for his life.
maybe it was because
I was so used to the echoes in my head
IendeditIendeditIendedit
that through the tears, I still managed to smile at the words
he ended it.

The lines on your skin tell stories, my dear
And if they could speak
They would speak of the pain
Of the loneliness and heartache and betrayal
Of the emotions that came too strongly or never at all

Of the blood that fell like tears when your eyes ran out

But the scars are quiet now
As silent as you were when you refused to cry for help

Please
Let me read the words on the pages of your skin
The unfinished thoughts and the sentences cut short

So I can finally finish them
And give you the happy ending you think you don’t deserve

I don’t remember what I was going to write

If it was a clever metaphor for love
Or a bitter commentary on life’s tragedies
Or a tale of sadness marred by teardrops on the page

My mind gets like this sometimes
A lot, in fact
It is a worn out engine:
There are still moments when the gasoline sparks into ignition
And the explosion rockets the world skyhigh
But more often
The pressure builds and builds…
To nothing.

Just like it did with this poem .

I didn’t notice it at first
Because after you walked out of my life
It took me a few moments
To discover the new ache in my heart and the incurable weariness in my bones
Remnants of the bruising love we shared

I think it was supposed to be a reassurance that you left a piece of yourself behind
But really it was just a reminder that you left.

I am so sorry. Truly, for everything I've done. It's 1:20am and I may as well be drunk for all the discretion I'm showing, but I need to say it before this fades as my feelings always inevitably do...I just reread some of past conversations, and I finally realized how much I gave up by not fighting hard enough. This entire year, I've managed to force myself not to care.......and honestly, I even managed to find some anger to throw at you, trying to convince myself that some part was your fault.
I was wrong.

And I don't know if it matters to you, and personally I don't even think it should, but I know that this may have been my one greatest regret. I can't make up for the mistakes, but you need to know that I am at least aware now that they were mistakes. That I couldn't see how you made me a better person and actually accepted me in the time when I thought no one could or should. That my blindness cost me something people search forever for.

And I see you now, unsure if you're happier or not. I sincerely hope you are...though it also scares me because that would mean I may have been the one who dragged you down.

I don't even know why I'm writing this, a flurry of passion, maybe, or a flood of shame. Or even jealousy that you already seem to have found closure while I am still awake right now, struggling with the consequences and the guilt.
Perhaps all of the above.

All I know is that these words in my head cannot be wasted, and they must be given to you before I can no longer send them or I no longer mean them, whichever comes first. They are for you to receive as you'd like, and as I finish, I'm beginning to see that this was as much, if not more, for me as it was for you. So I ask for nothing, and I presume nothing. I simply wanted you to know.

And I miss you. Because the tragic irony is, the one person I wish I could talk to about the chaos in my head is still you..

a brief confession:
until now,
i have written my best friend into a storybook heroine, untouchable
and our friendship one of puzzle pieces falling in place perfectly
i love her beyond words
and love makes you romanticize everything
but i want to show the truth
because incredibly, it is even more brilliant

sure, we have the happy story of meeting in summer camp, bonding over crafts and a shared love of books
and in most ways, what we have is simple and pure and obvious
but in all honesty, our true bond was not born in beauty or the sunlight
it was born ******, fighting, and dangling by its umbilical cord over a bottomless abyss

see, we were first stitched together in battle
opposite sides of a wound that drained us of tears and dark poetry
emptying pens stolen from a slate-eyed boy whose skin never seemed to be fully closed
we were surgery in a brightly lit, white-walled classroom
taking turns as his dialysis machine
until one day, we finally looked up
and realized he was stealing all our oxygen

on the homefront we were dissection victims,
perfectly preserved insides laid out for the world to see
so that no one would think to look for the secrets hidden beneath our sharp tongues
we were ***** donor and receptor,
and she gave me bone-marrow strength
in return for my rib-cage to cradle her overworked heart
both of us breathing heavily from the same pair of tired lungs

we were bandages on each other's wrists,
painfully tight tourniquets to keep our souls from leaking out with the blood
we were interlocked fingers between our deathbeds
and silence on either end of the telephone
too afraid to speak the truth aloud
but even more afraid of hanging up
instead letting our quietness drown out the silence

other times, we were barely contained sobs in a 2am voicemail

we were long periods of no contact
passive-aggressive silence
bottled anger that was too heavy to carry for long
over reasons we no longer remember

yes,
our connection was held together by bruised knuckles, scarred skin
but though it was often ugly and rough and messy
it also saved my life

It's true
It is a beautiful, exciting thing when the person you love returns your affections

But I have found it is something else entirely
Something a hundred times more meaningful
When the one who showed you how beautiful words can be
Breathed life into your thoughts
Compiled your most complex emotions into neat little stanzas
And writes like everything you wish you could be

Starts following you on Hello Poetry.

There once was a girl
Who hid herself from the world
She put on mask after mask
And faked every smile

But at sunset
She would unwrap the layers of her chrysalis
And sprint to the window
Looking frantically for that first glimmer of light
Wishing, hoping, praying on its dim sparkle

And she’d spend the rest of the night
Gazing into the evening sky
Drowning in the expanse of galaxies
Tracing imaginary constellations with her fingers
Searching desperately for a little star of her own

She lost herself many times
Pursuing the twinkling specks in the distance
Until she finally met the sun
A boy who reminded her that one star burns brighter than all the rest
He overpowered the twilight of her heart
And ignited fire from the ashes in her veins

Now she spends her nights
Eagerly awaiting the dawn instead

And when the hands on the clock move too slow
The minutes stretching into weeks
His reflection in the imperfect moon is her comfort
Like the brush of his hand gently kissing her cheek

As children
We learn
That smiles are only
Upside down frowns
The absence of sadness
Rather than the presence of joy

In middle school
The faltering grins
Become even more fake
Once we realize
That the appearance of bliss
Is just as convincing as
The real thing

Then during adolescence
Masks are constructed
Using a forcedly cheerful expression
To hide
The trails of hot tears
The pretty little lines under long sleeves
The hollow cheeks and ribs and collarbones
The terrified surrender to sweet liars
The truth

We spend our whole lives
Pretending not to be miserable
That it’s no wonder the people watching
Do not
Can not
Believe the genuine smiles
On the faces of our
Finally happy
Corpses

If you were a storybook character
I would write you as the princess of a kingdom
centuries and lightyears away from this dull planet
finally living (all) the fairytales you once tried to escape to

If you were a storybook character
I would write you as a shimmering mermaid
following the call of (the) ocean and slipping through hands like water
far, far away from those who try to keep you anchored to the surface

If you were a storybook character
I would write you as a woodland faerie
planting sunflowers in every inch of the (world’s) surface
and surrounded by a myriad creatures
from soft bunnies to beasts that only quiet at the sound of your voice

If you were a storybook character
I would write you as (a) warrior
with a bow curved like your smile and arrows as sharp as your wit
eyes blazing, hair flying, feet shaking the earth
as you (stage) a revolution against everyone who has ever tried to **** your spirit

If you were a storybook character
I would write about how you talk like you never need oxygen
how your face somehow shows everything (and) nothing at all
how you quietly notice little things that people overlook
how (you) strive to always do good to others but never to the point of losing yourself
how you love so brilliantly the universe can’t contain it
how you dream big and live boldly because we both know you (are) meant for much more than what they tell you to be

And I know you try so hard to be courageous and good and a hell of a woman
but I just want to tell you that you already are.
(In) all the ways that matter, you are.

Sometimes I wish I really could write you into an epic narrative
a heroine in (its) age-old battle between good and evil,
so the strength and loyalty and bravery I see in you can finally live under the (spotlight) where it belongs

But the one reason I can’t bear to let you become a legend
is that my selfish heart still thinks the greatest thing you do is call me your best friend

"Pluto is not a planet because it’s too small"
is a hard pill I refuse to swallow
Not out of sentiment or nostalgia
Or a stubborn resistance to change

No
I refuse because it sounds too much like
“Children are not important because they are too young.”
“Blacks/Latinos/Asians/Native Americans are not human because they have the wrong skin color.”
“Physically/mentally/emotionally disabled people are not worth are time because they understand truth differently.”
“The LGBT community are not worthy of decent treatment because they love wrong (as opposed to those who do not love at all).”
“Women are inferior because they aren’t—sorry, ‘don’t have’ *****.”

The narrow mindset behind Pluto’s exile
is the same discrimination that causes and comes from the war on terror
The same hatred that has prevented thousands from marrying and killed off millions
The same blind power that allocates almost half of the world’s resources to less than ten percent of the population

So I will not sit tight as you try to tell me that individuality is important
While your actions show me that difference is death
I promise that we will unite and attack and endure
Destroying your reign of fear until there’s finally nothing left

In my life
I have been
Lifted onto an impossibly high pedastal
Puffed up to fit the mold of perfection
Inflated with false hopes
Filled by others’ expectations
Blown out of proportion
Stretched beyond capacity
Pulled until I am nothing but papery skin and bones and air and dreams

But at the sound of your voice
I melt.

Never have I felt smaller than when the whisper of my name rolls off your lips.

The most relevant things I've learned in physics:

1. friction exists because no surface is ever
perfectly
smooth
so it is no wonder I always feel the heat of resistance where I walk
unintentionally scratching everyone with my jagged edges
and leaving nothing behind but cuts and bruises

2. hanging objects only find opposition in their path
because strings don't push, they just pull
which explains the tension that follows in my footsteps
taking easy conversations and returning forced silence

3. besides his renowned F=ma equation
newton also wrote a third law
because he understood that objects are stubborn and passive-aggressive
well, I'm sure he would've been proud of me
because I seem to have mastered the art of squeezing my eyes shut and pushing people away whenever they come close

4. gravity is obvious and inescapable
a fact that makes even the sky sob violently in thunderstorms
and that is why I have never dared to fly
choosing instead to drag my feet and shrink as small as possible
so I don't have far to go to kiss the ground

but the one thing that doesn't make sense to me
is why
even though I have been going in circles
I am still not conserving energy.

I'm writing this to you at the end of our first day, my legs screaming obscenities at me after all the so-called adventure
And I could tell you about how the dirt and sharp rocks wore out the soles of my feet
How we hiked for six hours off the path and I almost started crying by the fourth
How the trail we 'created' felt like descending into an abyss and crawling back out again
How the wind battered us with sand and the ocean burned our scratched calves

But baby, you should've seen the sky
The way it moved and swelled and changed
First periwinkle fading into a white horizon and hitting the sapphire sea
Then the setting sun that bathed canyons in gold and heat
Until the last rays blended into a clash of purple, pink, and orange

And when the day came to a close, the heavens opened like you wouldn't believe
The night was a pitch-black canvas, torn open by meteors that fell forever in a few seconds
While the stars pricked holes in the swirling shape of the Milky Way
Darling, I swear they danced for us
They twirled and waltzed and tangoed better than we ever could
And through all the splendor, the only thing I kept spending my shooting-star wishes on was you

Falling out of love is a lot like breaking glass

It starts with wholeness

The wonder of pure adoration
Similar to the dazzling sunlight
That streams through the stained window
And makes the colorful shadows dance

But the euphoria begins to plummet
Just as a gentle tap damages crystal
Forming cracks in the fragile relationship
Like the delicate lines running along a trembling vase

Then you
And the jar
Shatter

And as you do
You become a wreck
Flames of heartache burning away
The beautiful memories
The exhilaration
The innocent joy
Smashing the once-solid sculpture
Into a mess of jagged shards
Desperate and pitiful in the looming darkness

No longer beautiful.

You could’ve
Strengthened me with kindness
Given me back my worth
Empowered me by your affections
Unearthed the beauty that I didn’t know was there
Renewed me with your love

But you looked away

Now I see
I am nothing without you
Weak, fragile
Unable to rise on my own
Inadequate

I was broken and empty
Only you had the power to make me whole again…

…and only you left me here, incomplete.

I stumble
Tripping over knotted roots
Slashing my shins across thorns
Panting from sheer exhaustion
Tasting the salty burn of sweat on my lips
Collapsing under the pressure
Crushing dead leaves underfoot…

…and all sense of hope.

How did I get here?
And more importantly, how do I get out?

Only you can save me from the this wilderness
This desolate abyss
Reach out
Please
You owe it to me

For I got lost here searching for you.

july is ticking away
and i feel a little overwhelmed
no, scratch that, i just feel lonely
maybe because it's the second full moon of the month but i have no one to watch it with
not to mention that the clouds chose today of all days to return
it seems like some crept into my brain too
...these swirling thoughts no longer make sense
i think i really need a drink
for the moon is not the only one feeling a little blue tonight

It was the thrill of throwing a towel around your shoulders and ruling over your Beanie Babies with a firm but gentle hand.
It was the jewels on your construction paper crown that told the world it was your special day.
It was the sweet taste of grapes when you pretended to be the ruler of Ancient Egypt.
It was following Harold and his crayon on their adventures under the scribbled moon.
It was the musk of ozone on the first night you saw lightning rattle the world.
It was the awe in your wide eyes as you watched countless wounded soldiers stand tall in the spotlight.

Yes, it is the symbol of noble blood, of utmost confidence and unparalleled dignity
But it is also the childhood fantasies that never really left us
And it is why, even though we know it’s the closest we’ll ever get to royalty
It is impossible to resist joining a young Simba in singing
Oh, I just can’t wait to be king.

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

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 am being split, torn apart.
This is disintegrating, dissolving, dissociating.

I feel too much until I feel nothing at all. The misery and anguish vanish just as the first tear falls.
This is overwhelmed, numb, bipolar.

I starve and then binge. I want control but release it once I get it.
This is grasping, reaching, flailing.

I need to go out and do something, but as soon as I take a step toward the door, I retreat to my bed. I long to taste freedom, and I am the one confining myself.
This is incarceration, entrapment, suffocation.

I am ashes scattered on a raging sea, dead and fragmented and irreparable.
*Not even all the king’s men could put her back together again…

The wide-eyed owl
Is unique in his wisdom
For he learns everything
By listening
And always asking
Whoo?

While the parrots
Brightly colored
But dull-witted
Simply echo the voices around them
Never questioning
The phrases they repeat

The miniature wooden birds
Trapped in their tower
Also cry out
To signal their release
And the top of the hour
Reminding us over and over again
That our obsession with the passing time
Is just a little bit
Cuckoo

The delicate nightingale
In turn
Sings its beautiful melody
A tune so haunting and mysterious
It can move you to tears
Without ever telling you what it means

The birds are talking
But
In the words of the canaries
Talk
Is
*Cheep

Most people would say that it's cliche
To write a poem about fireworks
On the Fourth of July

It is too
Trite
Overused
Common.
It is unoriginal.

But there is nothing cliche about wonder and awe and magic
Nothing trite about a vast array of colors that you never even knew existed
Nothing overused about the feeling of exhilaration as you eagerly await the next supernova
Nothing common about lights so spectacular even thunder has to hold its breath.

And if it is unoriginal
Then I really don't think I care
After all
Just because something is beautiful
Doesn't mean that it has to be rare.

Free will is a lie
At least that's what the ground says
As it rumbles
And forces your body to revolt
Turning you into
Another helpless victim of the planet's epilepsy

All around you
Screams are cut short
By boulders hurtling at blinding speeds
Collapsed skyscrapers
Canyons that didn't wait for erosion

You try to push yourself back up
Weakly ordering your quaking legs to stand
But even the slightest quiver
Forces you back to your knees

Escape is impossible
When you have been robbed of movement

This is an enemy that won't even let you run

A long time ago
You came from the earth
And now
It has come for you

I watch my best friend sit through yelling that could wake whole cities, putting up with angry shouts about how she is a waste of money while she struggles just to keep herself from wasting away.
I watch my cousin angrily do everything herself as her father stands over, lecturing her about the importance of hard work as he watches from the side.

They are the most beautiful people I know, treated like nothing. And I can only watch as their fists, their jaws, their hearts harden to stone.
If not a single tear escapes from their steely eyes, why do I still feel like crying?

I am the one people talk about in songs and poems written at 2am
Through the blind stupor of heartbreak and rage.

I am the villain that heroes love to defeat
And spectators love to see defeated.

I am the ‘benign’ tumor that will eat its way through your body
Then run away and never look back.

I am the broken promises of forever and always.

It is scary how easily I can let go of things I once thought I treasured.
And it is absolutely terrifying how easily I can destroy people I once thought I loved.

I am the lone defendant in the courtroom
With nobody to speak up on my behalf
Not even myself.

∞ according to the order of operations,
(your name) belongs in parentheses since it is always the first thing i think about when i wake up
which works out, because it also looks just like the smile on my face the instant you walk in a room :)

∞ through all the ups and downs, all the positives and negatives of this fickle thing called love
|the light in your eyes| is the only absolute i'm sure of

∞ i can't calculate how you became an integral part of my life in such a small number of days
nor can i differentiate between the rising sun and your blinding smile
but every moment you're not here reminds me that i can't f(without you)
and i swear there's no limit to the distance i'd travel, whether it be three months or five thousand miles

∞ i get why they use an exclamation point in factorials now
because nothing makes me happier than counting down and multiplying the reasons I fall 4! you every 3! seconds, giving thanks 2! the stars that i somehow 1! my way into your heart

∞ so often, i have found myself divided by the fear of being loved and the fear of being alone
which is still only a fraction of the anxiety i feel when i think about the possibility of disappointing you,
but you are the better half of me,
and i can only hope to reciprocate the endless joy you've brought into my little world

∞ i've spent a lot of time stumped by the different branches of mathematics,
but you are the root of my confusion
for even though your legs stand firm and your arms are steadier than logs,
i can't figure out how your hand fits so gently in mine like perfect symme-tree

∞ i want to hold you so close they call it a sin
cos i love how your body curves around me
and how you never stop listening when my thoughts go on a tangent
and how you have acute, pardon my language, angle-side-side

∞ there are sum nights when i tally sheep instead of sleeping
because you've proven that 1 + 1 equals too much happiness for a heart to carry
but the only thing that doesn't quite add up is how six months can seem like no time at all
yet being with you makes it feel like infinity

i am clay mold shapeshifter, sand through your outstretched fingers
and i can be pretty much anything you want
be happy
be calm
be helpful
just don't ask me if i can belong
it hits a little too close to the home i haven't been able to find yet

lately i've been feeling a bit out of place no matter where i turn
a cheap puzzle piece not sanded down quite right
or just forcing itself into things i was never made for

or maybe the truth is that i don't fit in because i have no shape at all
i have become spineless pushover 'just have a ******* opinion for once' doormat under your feet
and i wake up from dreams of a world very similar to this one
where the only difference is that the people there look me in the eyes

but can't you see that the human race is my heartbeat
this fist in my chest is not strong enough on its own
and if it were pumping only for me
it would've stopped a long time ago

i. lately there's been this tight feeling in my lungs like i'm drowning
thoughts of homework, meetings, and most of all, crippling inadequacy
filling up my chest like seawater
but within these metaphorical thunderstorms, you have been the hurricane's eye

ii. there are no right words to convey the utter serenity of seeing the sun light up your face each morning
and nothing feels safer than when i am curled up against you
our bodies intertwining as we shake with quiet laughter

iii. i know i haven't been the easiest person to love
and you've grown a lot these past few weeks, trying to keep me sane
or maybe it's just that you finally get the chance to play protector in the midst of my daily mental breakdowns
either way, you keep proving that you are much too good for me

iv. i'm sorry this is also a preemptive apology
as much as i hate to admit it, i'm scared it's only going to get worse
but i promise i'm really trying

v. i love you so much. my brain isn't creative enough to shroud it in pretty words and nonsensical analogies right now, but i hope you get the idea.

She's nuts, and I keep trying to remind you that you're allergic.

The ocean is swallowing you whole
It is cold
So cold
Your arms flail in vain for the surface
But your numb legs have stopped functioning
And the fish are deaf to the fear in your eyes

You wish you could follow the bubbles
As they ascend to the patch of light overhead
But the only thing your flooded lungs can do
Is sink
It is a terrifying moment when you cannot even scream

Darkness closes in
Though you can no longer tell
If it is the depth of the sea
Or your dying mind
You
Cannot
Think
Anymo...

The human body is 70% H20
But as you sink down into this watery cradle
You are reminded once again
That even too much of a good thing
Can ultimately be fatal

You are on fire
Or you might as well be
Flames lick at your too-thin clothing
The heat more intense than anything you've ever known
And your panic is nothing compared to the sheer pain

All you know is coughing, coughing
Choking on filthy smog
Inhaling poison
Gasping to find an ounce of oxygen
Feeling as if you lungs are about to rip themselves open

And all the while
The wooden structure crashes down
Closing in on your trembling frame
As you watch helplessly
Your vision consumed by blazing scarlet

You are staring into the face of the sun
But this fire brings the opposite of life
Ashes to ashes...
It seems your cremation has already begun.

i have never known how to love halfway
split between the extremities of
gut-wrenching, soul-consuming, burn-the-world-down passion
and tired apathy
and i would either walk to the ends of the world for you
or not even to the end of the street

maybe that's why i hated goldilocks
for continually reminding me that i've never been 'just right' for anybody
a bowl of cold porridge, a chair three sizes too big
someone you settle for but never really want

maybe, you argue, i should learn to stretch myself more evenly
but i seem to have a problem of only seeing things in black and white
(more often than not, i land on black)

the problem is, i spend most of life in retreat
face hidden behind hair, hands pulled under sleeves, soundproof headphones
shuffling down sidewalks to a soundtrack of alternative music on full blast

but when i give my heart away,
it is not release
like gently unlocking a tabernacle to let the blood breathe
it is artpoetrywar
ribcage torn open, red hands, stains on the bathroom floor
clawing out the fire in my chest
just to hand them the universe on a burnt-out matchstick

i can count on one hand the people i love beyond a doubt
and it takes the same fingers to count how many of them deserve more than my ashy soul
still, my body aches for the other ghosts in my life i want to care more about
so i guess i'm finally learning what my math teacher meant when she said two halves make a hole

Fake applause
Smiles from strangers
Insincere congratulations

Take that away and I am nobody
All that’s left are white papers
Each claiming I have accomplished something

you weren't really supposed to become such a big part of my life
the girl i was a year ago would've scoffed at the idea of spending all my time with one person
yet here I am, blinking away sleep in your bed that feels more like home than mine
and every moment i spend with you is slowly proving wrong everything i once thought about love
i used to scribble notes and doodle hearts and sing dramatically as if it were all a dazzling fairytale, a dream come true, the end
and then somewhere along the way, i dismissed it for the same reason
but i am learning that it's a little more complicated than that

because i love how i can still get mad at you
but never for too long because i can't stand the way your eyes dim when you're unhappy
how we can argue for days about the right way to wash dishes but not feel jealous about hanging out with other people

i love how your eyes change colors as often as the weather
from spring green to earthy brown to a forest blend of the two
how i swoon when you wear that blue tie with your three-piece suit
but also when you throw on a dark v-neck and jeans

i love how we can switch from mindlessly watching cartoons to spending too many frustrated hours on the crossword in the daily newspaper
how we really really can't dance but still do it anyway
and how dinner together might mean a three-course meal or a bowl of cereal, but i savor it either way

i love how you know me better than anyone else
before we met, i was a perfectly sculpted mask
weaving stories like an open book so that no one bothered to look closer
but you found the invisible ink on the pages
reading meaning in places i didn't even know were hidden
then learning how to unravel the chaos of my thoughts
and i still remember the first time i let my guard down
the night i accidentally spoke the words aloud:
"there are too many voices in my head."
nothing felt safer than hearing you whisper back,  "i know."

i love how you have seen me at my worst and somehow continue looking at me with stars in your eyes
how you hold me without saying anything while i try not to cry (and fail miserably)
how you laugh so hard when i trip that you end up running into a pole
how we exchange embarrassing stories almost like a competition
and now i know that all the times i kept repeating i'm fine
i'd just been waiting for someone like you to say,
"no, you're not, and that's okay"

i rarely say it, but i love how you love
how deeply you are capable of feeling and how hard you try
i've always tried to watch out for everyone but often at the cost of intensity
while you care about things more strongly than i can even understand

i'll admit that the one thing i don't love
is how i get lonely too easily now
and it probably isn't healthy that i need you so much
but no one ever said this had to be good for me

maybe love only breaks us so we are stronger when it finally pieces us back together
and i love you through it all
despite it all
because of it all
with or without it all

you said that you saw the universe when I looked at you
but even galaxies have cracks
and I am starting to wonder if my eyes are just black holes
because lately all I seem to be capable of
is seeing light and blinking it away into darkness

My tongue has never known the taste of being straightforward, finding safety and comfort in jaded sarcasm and clever remarks.
But sometimes the truth cannot be held back
and it rises like the tides, spilling onto the page from my fingertips instead.

You joked about me finding someone else today
and I just laughed and hugged you tighter.
But the farther I walked away from you, the blurrier everything became
so by the time you were out of sight, I couldn't remember if there had been the suggestion of uncertainty in your voice.

(Overthinking has always been my preferred brand of poison.)

Perhaps it is my fault for needing attention too desperately
for asking too many people to complete the gap in my heart that only I should be able to fill
for needing everyone to paint me into a masterpiece because I can't stand how my own reflection looks like a crumpled-up sketch, tossed aside with the rest of the universe's failures.
I'm sorry for all of it. It's just hard when the mirrors in my house look like nothing but magnifying glasses of my imperfections.

I* just hope you know that even though Northern California is known for its misty fog, your eyes shine through like the morning light.
Forget the sun; you are the brightest star in my sky.*

And with each passing day, I am beginning to wonder if maybe everyone has it wrong when they say love is blind
Because I'd swear to every god I don't believe in
that you are the one thing I can see clearly in this shapeless world.

you'd think loneliness would feel empty
but it is actually an immovable deadweight that lives right atop my sternum
crushing me into the bed until the numbness creeps into my torso.
it paralyzes my limbs,
shrinking my ribcage until my imprisoned heart isn't strong enough to keep time with the clock anymore

it is violent stillness
my fingers clutching my throat and
wanting to scream so loudly that my timid vocal chords,
so accustomed to mumbling and trying not to be heard,
simply can't accommodate the request
the desperation doesn't rip through my chest like sobs
but silently leaks out the corner of my eye

it is staring at the ceiling and dozing off and waking up and immediately closing my eyes again because i am so tired of remembering that i'm alone

and it is cold, so cold
shivering under three blankets
curling into myself and waiting for the day i am finally strong enough to turn off the vacancy sign on my front door

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