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

Love should be a contract.
After all, I have already signed away my soul to you
In the hopes that maybe one day
You'll learn to love me too

But it seems
That I am the only tied down
Not the other way around
As I reach desperately for your hand to hold
You brush it aside
Then toss me to the ground

I guess for now, I'll settle for a love unrequited

And though your empty smile will never be enough for me
That won't stop it from making my heart contract painfully.

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

According to science
a star is just a massive inferno that blazes so intensely
we literally cannot get any closer to one than where we are
My tongue has never caught fire from starlight
but I’d bet against the heavens
that even if I opened wide the next time comets fell like snow
a mouthful of meteorites would not burn as hot as your lips on mine

But some see them as suicidal flames
trying desperately to leave a scar on the galaxies
frantic enough to bleed themselves dry in the process
My greatest fear was always spontaneous combustion
but I have found courage in your touch
and even the sense of urgency as you deepen our kiss
can no longer scare me away

Still others see them as puncture holes in the darkness
letting in light to keep the lonely moon warm in the night sky
And it seems no matter how tightly I squeeze my eyes shut
no matter how carefully I draw the curtains and blow out the candles
I can never escape the image of your impossibly beautiful smile that night
when I came up for air and saw the universe reflected in your eyes

And Dom Pérignon was famous for likening them to the sparkle of champagne
bubbles that danced and burst like magic in his glass
*So kiss me again
Quick before our nonexistent plans go awry
Because there is no way I can go back anymore
now that I have learned what it’s like to fly

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

It is newborn ducklings and chicks that struggle to climb out their broken eggshells.
It is daffodils that bloom in the spring to greet the warming sun.

It is juicy ears of corn that signal the start of heat and happiness.
It is your puckered cheeks as you down another glass of cool lemonade and search desperately for shade.

It is Pac-Man and the taste of macaroni and cheese that whisk back to your childhood.
But it is also the taxicab that offers you the shot to begin again, ten thousand miles away from home.

It is the Beatles and their submarine, promising a life of ease and all you need.
It is the sparkle of champagne as you toast to the New Year.

It is the color of mornings and rebirth and second chances
So I guess it’s only natural that it happens to rhyme with “Hello.”

I never asked for a guardian angel, but I got the best one.

from birth, he is instilled with a fear of weakness.
his mother does everything she can to make him stronger, but never teaches him that he is worth more than the weight of his muscles and the force behind his fist.

he remembers drowning, pain and terror rushing through every nerve in his body, wishing she would let go of his foot so he could just dissolve instead...
then there is light, or as much light as reaches the underworld, and the face of one who did not believe in him enough to let him build his own strength.
you are immortal now, she breathes with an air of the miraculous in her voice,
you cannot die by any type of injury.
well, except one, right here on your heel.

but then, he turns to look at her, doesn’t that mean i am not immortal at all?

he still touches the spot sometimes, at night, feeling an emptiness there that both reassures and terrifies him.
the rest of the time, he wears thick socks and like everyone else, ignores the thought of his mortality.

on his ninth birthday, he is disguised and sent away to spends his days among another’s daughters.
he grows up in love,
and surrounded by compassion, it is there that he learns how to be a real warrior, simultaneously gentle and fierce.
but they come for him in the night, throwing words in his face about prophecies and oracles that go over his head.
it is his destiny to win, they tell him, and he must fulfill it.
duty takes away his choice.

so he fights their battles but shoots the sea to make tidal waves that hide the fact he keeps deliberately missing, lacking the hatred needed to ****.
the first time he hurts someone, he cannot sleep for days, only feeling better when the man comes back and allows him to repair the injury.

in combat, they give him fifty ships to command
but then take his love,
and when he cries in his tent and refuses to leave, they are ashamed of him.
it is only when his best friend is murdered that the fire they wanted from him ignites, consuming his vision in red.
if they seek violence, he yells, that is what they shall have .
once he emerges in full gear, everyone trembles, picturing his anger,
but cannot see that it is loyalty and loss which burn even stronger in him,
more destructively powerful than their petty reasons for starting this war.
years later, when they retell the story of his victory, everyone swears he was completely untouchable

she finds him in the garden when it is all over, watching the flaming chariot just barely climbing over the horizon.
covered in dried blood but no wounds, his body is tense and unmoving,
but when she reaches out to touch him, he flinches and pushes her away.
he doesn’t need her help, he says through grit teeth, he is strong enough to handle it alone,
and to his surprise, she laughs.
you are too young and small to consider yourself atlas, and even that titan had help from heroes. you have lost much, which will not be forgotten quickly or easily. but strength can only be found in facing our weakness and, sometimes, allowing others to carry our burden. if you will let me, i should like to bear yours.

in the silence that follows, she watches the reflection of sunrise in his eyes,
and as the tightness and shadows of his face fall away, she can begin to see through to the child he once was, soft and joyful and a little bit scared.
laying his head in her lap, she uses her hair to wipe the tears that form
and slowly, in the silence under white flags, achilles heals

Death has a pretty ****** job
Forever recycling souls
Only allowed to travel to
Destruction

All he knows is
The smoldering ashes of war
The popcorn sound of bullets
The shredded wreckage of rubber and metal
The hastily tied nooses or desperate pills
The haunting screams of children

But I think Life has it worse
For at least Death can take comfort
In playing the role of savior

Whereas Life is trapped
Forced to give his gift
To those who don't want it
Prolonging the suffering of
Heartbroken lovers
Lonely teenagers
Impoverished families
Tortured widows and lost orphans

And if each were given two words
To repeat to their victims endlessly
Death's would be "You're welcome."
While Life's would always be "I'm sorry."

1:00am
I cannot count on one hand
(the) number of times I've fallen asleep to the rhythm of your breathing.
It's hard to believe I've (only) known you for two weeks minus two days.

9:15am
I'm convinced that no(thing) in all of history has ever tasted sweeter than waking up with you on Halloween morning
As your sighs match time with the unfamiliar sound of raindrops
and your arms pull me under the covers to keep warm against the cold.

12:27pm
Pumpkins on the street laugh while the sky cries.
The hours are long when you're gone.
(I'm) not sure how I feel without you beside me.

2:01pm
I met a boy from my past today
who reminded me that my heart is still haunted by the ghosts of all the times I ****** up.
And I'm (scared)
-no, terrified-
that you will not be able to escape the spiderweb (of) failures that I've gotten entangled in.

2:23pm
Homework (is) not an effective distraction.
Trying to write out (how) I feel doesn't seem to be working either.
Maybe that's the consequence of always hiding behind masks: you try to look in the mirror one day and begin to wonder if anything is real.

3:40pm
I shouldn't miss you this (much) after only seven hours.

3:42pm
I shouldn't miss (you) this much after only seven hours and two minutes.

4:01pm
I'm sorry I get in these moods sometimes.
I would blame it on the leaking clouds more often if we weren't in a drought.

4:01pm
What I (mean) to say is that I'm sorry I am selfish when it comes to you.
You deserve so much more than the mess that I am
But I'm addicted (to) you and I can't seem to pry my cold hands from the warm life in your bones.

4:33pm*
I never believed in superstition
And I'm having my doubts about heaven and hell
All I know is that you must've been sent to rescue (me)
Because you are the closest thing to I've got to prince charming and I swear I am under your spell.

I used to think ostriches were stupid
For burying their heads in the sand

I mean, the need to conceal was perfectly acceptable
Just look at chameleons, children’s games, eclipses;
The universe overflows with proof that hiding is only natural
But to do it so poorly?
That was just sad.

As I grew up though
I began to understand the value of smoke and mirrors
The art of distraction, of diverting attention from the body that cannot hide
And I mastered it
I became the expert of illusion
Delusion
Confusion

I constructed a mask so lifelike even I could no longer remember if I’d ever had a real face.

Waking early every morning
I applied makeup and apathy as my own personal veneer
For I had long ago realized
That weakness led to concern led to questions led to fear

So instead of opening myself to the Inquisition
Which I knew would attack until I confessed
I learned the greatest lesson from the birds I once scorned:
How to hide more simply by ‘hiding’ less.

last week, (i) spent almost every waking moment by your side,
yet my needy heart somehow still missed you terribly in the minutes and spaces in between.
the loneliness had started to find its way back again,
and i think maybe the fire in your soul was the one thing bright enough to burn it away.

or maybe that's not true
maybe it was (just) that you had started teaching me how to light my own matches,
beginning with the night you kissed my scars and read them like braille
and i was hopelessly drawn to the idea of outshining the universe,
since the last thing i ever (wanted) to do was weigh you down with all the ways i wasn't good enough

see, i used (to) feel irretrievably lost, laying awake every night wondering whether i was, or even could be, a good person
because we always (say) that life is short
but someone once reminded me that it is still the longest thing we will ever experience
and i am slowly realizing it might not be too late to become someone (i) don't regret seeing in the mirror every morning,
someone i don't mind you seeing.

this is also a brief apology for writing less lately
poetry was my medium for romanticizing reality
but it's getting harder and harder to create anything more beautiful than the (love) that's been glowing brighter in your eyes
and words can't seem to capture the way (you) smile like it's impossible to stop

i guess what i'm trying to say
is that you were always (too) good for me, miles ahead of the curve
but i would run beside you my whole life
if it meant that one day, i could finally be the kind of person you deserved

I am too much of a coward to say this to your face
But since this is a poem
I don’t feel as helpless
Because my thoughts always made more sense coming from my hands than my lips

Since this is a poem
I’m less afraid to confess
How I loved that you chose me
And how I will do anything I can to justify the trust you’ve given me

Since this is a poem
I will admit that this was the first time I have cried for someone else
And that the space before you answered your phone was wrought with a terror I’ve never known

Still, since this is a poem
It is easier to lie when desperation rips off the mask you have so carefully constructed
And you stumble into my arms
Asking—no, crying whenwillthisendwhenwillthisendwhenwillthisend
between gasps for air
Soon, my love, soon
I promise

Since this is a poem
Maybe you’ll finally listen
When I say that you are not a burden
Or a ****** friend
(I know because I have been both, way too many times)

Since this is a poem
I can whisper and SHOUT and emphasize my words
Until you understand
That you are the one person I have ever truly cared about
(And only you know what a big deal that is for me)

You can keep apologizing for being weak
But all that hurts me are the tearstains on your cheeks

And if you are an anchor
Then you must be chained to sky
Darling, haven’t you realized by now
You are the only reason I am still alive.

it always saddened me how LA was the city of angels but no stars
and the only ones in vegas were around the heads of men with too much *****
even new york, home of countless celebrities, hid its constellations
because it seems the more light we try to produce, the more of it we lose

so i instead chose to fight and count against the night
while the heavens moved and i moved with it
wondering if i could outrun time
and stay in this canvas: pin-pricked, diamond-studded, backlit

but alas, dawn still threatens to swallow the sky
though i have only reached one hundred forty three so far
they said it was impossible, so i heard let's do it
come quickly and join me, for i am counting the stars

The only thing that scares me about hell
is the thought of seeing you praying to heaven
and not being able to answer.

this is the american dream:
someone walks into the store to ask about buying a gun,
and the response is
automatic.
this is the american dream:
a bullet is fired through another human being in the name of patriotism,
and it is called an honorable discharge.
this is the american dream:
they ignore empty shells of bullets and bodies and
musk it
with baseball and the scent of apple pie.
to be honest, i'm really
******. toll
the bells for another memorial service
because once again, in the face of brutality,
the country continues to recoil instead of kick back,
and now more families are huddling together to watch
another bury all
the warm bodies of their children,
trying to find an explanation
but drawing a blank.
meanwhile, the rest of the population wakes in mourning,
drinks bitter news and coffee hot off the presses,
rifles through magazines loaded with shots
of more people needlessly killed,
and watches politicians chat about dead bodies like the latest fashion trend,
ads for casual tees
televised just in time for the spring season.
but begging the government to discuss change is starting to feel like
scraping the bottom of the barrel of a gun, and there is only empty ringing in their chambers,
echoes of thoughts and prayers and gunshots
while they mourn loudly about how these times have been trying
to cover up the fact that they aren’t;
that their complicity,
so vile, lent
itself to triggering the current mess.
and their solution is more surveillance, stronger security-
or in other words, more people with guns and also authority.
they still plead the 2nd, but that’s
bull; it’s in a weapon
that originally sanctioned slavery
so instead, ask them why the ones killed are always exercising their right to bare arms.

no, guns don’t **** people.
but people with guns
**** people.
and it’s not like guns are being used by anything else.

To the only one I still care about:
I have a confession that half of the world's population will condemn, and the other half will romanticize.

I still want to die.

And I hate myself for it. Because with all the willpower in my body, my only wish is that I could love you so much that thoughts of death would never cross my mind again.

But how do I tell you that the reason I don't text back sometimes is because I am drowning myself in loud music and studying and a hundred different clubs
Simply to get my brain as far as possible from the desire for oblivion.

How do I explain that I am running on caffeine-induced smiles and artificial adrenaline
Never stopping for a breath of air that my lungs don't want
And keeping my heart racing to hide the fact that all I want it to do is stop.

How do I reveal that it keeps me up all night, trying to figure out if my greatest fear is losing you or leaving you
And by morning, I am too exhausted to think of anything besides the promise of eternal sleep.

How do I say aloud that you are my world, but even gravity couldn't hold Icarus down when he wanted to fly,
And it's been getting harder and harder for me to keep my feet on the ground too.

How do I admit that I once thought there were monsters in my soul, but now I realize I am one,
And the ones in my veins are simply calling me home.

How do I confess that I have lost the last of my strength in this endless fight
Trying to keep you safe from the fact that I am the darkness and you are the light.

i cannot say 'i miss you' because it's not true.
i miss school dances, excessively fancy dresses, vanilla coke.
i miss saturday morning cartoons and sugary cereal.
i miss playing pretend house and pretend office job, when adulthood seemed as mystical as santa claus.

no, i don't miss you;
i am incomplete without you.
there is something inside me that doesn't fit quite right:
a pit, a cavity, a depression,
that i've tried to fill with fantasy books and sad movies and too much brain space dedicated to song lyrics.
but you are the final piece, the hand that mine fits perfectly into
and when you're gone, i go from being whole to hole.

i don't miss you;
i am completely lost without you.
my mind drifts, wanders somewhere beyond my reach;
normally you are my compass,
my gps,
my worn out map in the glove box,
the back of my hand mapped against the stars.
no matter where or when we are,
you are the only thing that can guide me home.
but now i am sinking at sea with a cloudy sky and no steering wheel.

i don't miss you;
i am broken without you.
some of it is that you make me the full person i can be
instead of the shell i inhabit,
but the larger reason is that i don't see the point in trying to live without you here,
and i don't want to.
it's fitting that we describe it as being apart-
for you are a part of me,
and it's one that i can't survive very long without.

i cannot say 'i miss you' because without you,
there is no i to begin with.

"It is true," she said.
"It is like drowning
Except you can see everyone else breathing."

Then it must also be true that everyone else can see you suffocating
Because it is like I am watching her dissolve before me
Trapped in her own deep well of misery

See, she tries to tread the waters
Tries to hold herself upright and proud
But the ones she does it for
Are the weights on her ankle dragging her down

So when she hold her breath under freeway tunnels
And dreams from night till day
I still can't tell if she's just waiting to resurface
Or wishing her life away

My dear, eyes that shine as bright as yours
Should never have to see the dark side of the moon
Hold onto your tears, broken angel
I swear it'll be over soon

I'll rescue you from this ****** abyss
That's left you eager for hell
I promise you're not crazy
You're just a little unwell.

Let it resound
In every city
Every street corner
Every home

Shout from the mountaintops
Until your throat is sore
And your lungs tight
And your knees weak
From the effort

Say the things that need to be said
And the things that need to be heard
Because people will listen.

And that will give you all the power in the world
To twist the heart of every person you meet
To open their minds
To challenge the system
To make a change

Affirm your position or be forsaken
Assert your opinion or be forgotten.

Silence is loud
But make your voice louder.

Running away from it all...

...from heartbreak.
Watching him gaze at her best friend
With the same adoration in her own eyes
As she reaches out for him in vain

...from apathy.
Living the same old routine
Struggling so hard to feel something
Anything
As the tears refuse to fall

...from abandonment.
Covering her ears against the screams--
Just because they are familiar
Doesn't mean they aren't agonizing
"You can't do anything right"

Barefoot, she pounds the pavement
Vision blurry from crying.
Her legs suddenly give out
And she collapses on the rough gravel

Yet she feels strangely happy
Because even this
Wind stinging her cheeks
Ice freezing her veins
Stones slashing her papery skin
Is still better than where she came from.

Exhaustion is heavy
Numb indifference even more so
My eyes are dull
And their gaze cast down
To something even deeper than the soil
Arms leaden, knees trembling
Thoughts cycling, cycling, endlessly

And for what?
What is the purpose of this weariness?

Just take a look at the window
And you'll remember
The world waits to greet you as soon as you walk out

The blazing sun smiles with warmth
While the silky moon soothes the ache in your bones
Hot desert winds drag sand around for miles
As cascading waterfalls crash onto granite stones
Hollow-***** birds soar beyond the heavens
Thousands of feet above immense sea creatures
That crawl below the shimmering ocean surface

No matter how dead you feel
The world is alive around you

So when the only thing on your mind is a resounding, "Why?"
The snow capped mountains
The palm studded beaches
The wheat speckled fields
And the storm plagued jungles
Echo back their reply:
"Just because."

It is the sharp tang that greets your tongue in the morning, kickstarting your heart with sugar and Vitamin C.

It is the satisfying crunch of carrots drowning in cool ranch.

It is a plastic ring that reassures you of safety as the boat wobbles and you panic about falling over the railing.

It is the line of luminescent cones that guide you along the right path, and the sound of construction overhead.

It is the sun's goodbye as it fades from the horizon and moves on to greet the other side of the world.

It is the glow of a traffic light that blinks slowly at 3am, barely awake as the rest of the world sleeps peacefully around it.

For a color whose name has made every poet's life difficult
there are quite a few times in the day when it sure makes life seem very easy.

everyday starts at
273.16 Kelvin, 611 Pascals
my body still unsure what it wants to be
-no, scratch that-
still unsure what other people want it to be

1. with my parents
the temperature drops and the pressure rises
while they yellcriticizedemand
and suddenly i am ice
solidfrigidhard
stubborn as hell but ten thousand times colder

2. my best friend is the fire
sparking excitement in dark parts of my soul
and as we heat up together
i become free as air
the earth no longer able to keep me together
or hold me down

3. i am fluid around everyone else
freeform
shapeshifting until all they see is their own reflection staring back at them
intangible
slipping through hands like an eel that will shock anyone who gets close
and quietly destructive
slowly eroding the paperthin walls of their hearts and leaving behind nothing but canyons in my wake

solid liquid gas
common science says that it ends there
but you
you always remind me that there is a fourth state of matter
because when we touch it is like i can feel the electrons of negativity jumping off my skin
and when you kiss me
i could swear we are the plasma that the universe and stars are made of

Falling in love is a lot like creating glass

It starts with disorder

The confusion of your lost soul
Similar to the rough granules of unrefined sand
That fall through your fingers
And refuse to hold their shape

But the passion begins to build
Just as a spark ignites a searing fire
Blazing in your heart
Like the burning rocks in the oven

Then you
And the stone
Melt

And as you do
You become pure
Tides of love washing away
The brokenness
The chaos
The loneliness
Solidifying the scattered pieces
Into a mountain of radiant crystal
Glorious and sparkling in the scarlet light of the furnace

Ready to be made beautiful.

one thing that used to disappoint me was that all of the superheroes and book characters i admired had eyes blue as the ocean, or emerald green, even grey like a thunderstorm, but never brown like mine or yours. brown was plain, common, nothing special.
well, that is someone else's loss if they refuse to see how truly beautiful you are, and i will selfishly stare into your eyes forever

for they are the color of espresso with a splash of milk, and you make my heart race like a double shot
i feel like making lists and conquering the world if it means i can keep waking up to the smell of you in the morning

they are the color of the mnms i set apart when i was younger because i thought they had more chocolate
and even if it wasn't true, the thought was sweet enough to make me happy

they are the color of kindling and i am burning to ashes then rising like a phoenix, ready to set myself on fire again and again just to feel your warmth

they are the color of baked bread and i've been starving for a love like yours to sustain me

they are the color of fresh soil and i want to bury myself so i can love you until i die and then turn my body into a garden of your favorite flowers

they are the color of a knot in the trunk of a sequoia tree, and i am imperfect but growing and even though my love for you does not come without mistakes, it is still the largest thing on this planet

It is turtles and frogs that crawl around the rocks, quieter than the lazy stream beside them
It is inch-long caterpillars and the translucent leaves they punch holes in.

It is the light taste of avocados, smooth as cream and refreshing as air.
It is the softness of a freshly mowed lawn between your bare feet,
It is the crisp scent of mint in your tea.

It is the seaweed tangled around your legs as you sprint and fall face first into the waves.
It is the rivalry hanging in the air as you and your friend volley the tennis ball back and forth

It is the glow of emeralds in the darkness of hidden caves.
It is the pine tree sitting in your house, reassuring you that life and joy still exist, even in the barren month of December

I’m trying to conclude with a witty remark, find some clever line to end this
But it seems that even though I can write about it
I really don’t have the luck of the Irish.

if you could paint the constellations to capture the beauty of your favorite heroes
then the universe would be your self-portrait, my dear

i. you are one in 7.4 billion.
ii. if life handed me lemons, i would make you lemon bars instead.
iii. i used to think you would be the only thing I'd see in a crowded room, but you were the one who pointed out the way the light burst through the window and the tiny pieces that kept the building from falling apart.
iv. you are not the silver lining but the cloud, the rain that reminds the flowers to grow."
v. maybe we were a match made in heaven. or maybe we were already ignited, a wildfire burning our names across the sky.
vi. maybe lightning can't strike the same place twice, but your touch keeps telling me that static electricity can.
vii. they said finding someone like you was looking for a needle in a haystack, but i used a magnet instead.
viii. everything happens for a reason, but sometimes that reason doesn't have to be profound. sometimes it's just having someone to eat cereal and watch cartoons with on a lazy saturday morning.
ix. i didn't fall for you. i scaled the cliffside to find where you were painting the stars.
x. love isn't blind; it is seeing someone else clearly for the first time.
xi. when i first met you, my heart didn't skip a beat. it pounded on my ribs like a boxer, spelling over and over, "this is the one. this is the one."

I wasn't lying when I told you I was fine
I really did believe it.

Because how could I not be?
With straight teeth hidden behind a mischievous smirk
And emeralds in your irises that burned through the shadows
Your features as fine any Greek hero's

But when you left
The sun seemed to shine a little brighter

Only when I looked back did I realize why
The replayed memories felt rough around the edges
The echoes of your words wickedly sharp
The remnants of your laugh ringing false in my ears

You had choked me with strings so fine I didn't realize you were suffocating me at all
​until your tired arms released me
and my lungs finally tasted the oxygen they hadn't known was missing

i. A part of me is scared how much I care about you. A much larger part of me is the happiest it's ever been.
ii. You are seven inches taller and seventeen months older, and still, all I want to do is protect you with everything I have and everything I am.
iii. There is nothing I love more than the feeling of your laughter against my chest.
iv. You were my first journey into uncharted waters, and it's like I've been on an adventure ever since.
v. It's difficult to sleep when I'm with you, but ****, it's impossible without you.
vi. I can't bring myself to wash the smell of you from my pillowcase.
vii. Your skin feels more like home than my own.
viii. How do you make me feel so ******* special?
ix. Maybe it's the way you look at me as if you can't believe your eyes. Or the way you breathe my name like a godforsaken prayer.
x. Thoughts of you are the reason I don't get angry at couples on the street anymore and can't stop smiling in the middle of the day.
xi. My life has been a series of endless mistakes, but I guess I must've done something right to deserve you.
xii. 168 hours and I feel like I've known you forever.
xiii. I wish I could have known you forever.
xiv. I promised myself a long time ago that I would never unlock my heart for anyone. But your body fits against mine like a master key and now there's no way to shut you out.

I wonder what it is
About
Darkness
Where the only glow comes from a slowly ticking clock
Silence
Where the only noise is the ringing in your ears
Raw emotion
Where the only sanity you have left is spread out across this page

That releases us
And lets the words flow free
Beautiful and pure and unrestrained
To create a masterpiece you’d never thought possible when you were awake.

Saying I fight a lot with my parents is a massive understatement
Because I am stuck in the past, unable to forgive them for what they turned me into.
And saying I mess up whenever it comes to boys is even more so
Because I keep looking too far into the future, seeing an inevitable end and breaking off before it even begins.
But you,
You always jolt me back to reality
And whenever you excitedly show me pictures of bunnies in teacups
Or rant about your dreams with **** rock stars
Or yell Ohmygosh then proceed to enlighten me about the latest gossip
I can’t help by smile
And thank God for today.

i am used to watching the world around me fall apart
more than that
i am used to being the earthquake that causes it to collapse
and now i understand why we call them fault-lines
because the only thing i've ever known how to do is take the blame

but you are a time-tested skyscraper that refuses to fall
with your soles on the ground and soul in the clouds
shivering to the rhythm of my destruction
then still pulling me closer

and it somehow defies physics
that the more i am compressed in your arms
the more the strain in my clenched fists melts away

i'm sorry i can't tell you when the poison in my soul will stop leaking
or when i will stop leaving cracks in the sidewalk underneath my toes
all i can say for certain is that the whisper of your touch makes my head spin
and for the first time in my life
i want to hold on to this moment and never let it go

We spent hours
Whispering secrets to the night sky
Until it muffled the silent echoes
And swallowed our bodies whole

And as he and I lay there
Our faces hugging the dirt
We emptied ourselves of words
Until
Finally
Nothing hurt

if they say the more love you give away,
the more you get back
then why do i feel like i've been wringing myself dry
trying to fill up your sponge heart

and you accept each small drop with proper manners
a polite smile, a cordial thank you
but it isn't until i am too empty to stand
that you finally turn back to see how little of me is left
and realize i might need some strength of my own too

it's not like the love isn't there;
sometimes i think i can see the outline of bruises on your chest
because you seem to be all heart with no understanding of how to give it away

then again, i always had this self-destructive need to throw everything i have at anyone who gives me the time of day
so is this just my fault again?
for trying too hard to win you over
i'm sorry, it's only because i feel like i keep losing
to the computer screen
to new ideas for inventions
to more interesting friends
to convenience

and it kills me a little more every time you walk away
knowing the next time i'll see you is when it's practical and can be pencilled into your tetris block schedule

i don't know how much longer i can do this
and i would probably cry more about it but i don't have any energy left

I woke up this morning next to a mountain of once-warm laundry
Piled there last night in the hopes that the space beside me wouldn't feel so lonely

But my arm still curled desperately around the emptiness where you should've been

And I don't know if you did the same
All I know is that I used to hate sleeping alone because my sadness felt too big for the bed
But now I can't stand how small I feel between the sheets
The mattress an endless desert and visions of you nothing but an empty mirage in the heat

Most people are good at stealing attention from a crowd
Or the key to someone’s heart
But all I have ever been good at taking
Is starlight, from the eyes of everyone who has ever loved me.

But she makes me want to be different
And though I know she would never want anything more than my smile
I would give her the world,
if it meant that when I left, she would still have more than all that I amounted to.

She says she sees a light in my soul
And even if I used to have night vision and only saw darkness in the debris,
for the first time, I’m beginning to believe her.

But candles are more dangerous than shadows
Just as false hope hurts more than harsh realities
And if it’s true that I am a flame leading her home,
I’m terrified of the certainty that one day, I will go out
And leave her more lost than when she had been on her own.

They get to write their name into history
Without ever leaving the safety of the midnight sky

alas, what a curse
to be born with the need to give away every piece of my cracked heart
yet even as a whole,
it is too small to move anyone else's.

my body is a crime scene with your fingerprints on everything

bruised knuckles
from punching the wall too many times
that your gentle lips kissed and then said the ugly tiling deserved it

****** nails
from scratching carefully hidden places
that you bandaged with cartoon characters and a lollipop because i was brave for surviving so much pain

blistered feet
from years of running away from self-hatred
that finally healed when you gathered me in your arms and swore to carry me

torn vocal chords
from swallowing words no one was ever interested in
that you trained to whisper and sing and yell, laughing when i lost all sense of volume control

a cracked heart
fragilely held together with caution tape
that you unraveled and stitched up

the violence i have survived is a messy house to clean
but the truth is i was both victim and culprit
while you were just the rescue team

To myself five years ago:

In five years, you will notice that your poetry has gone flat
because it has been too long since you last let yourself taste sadness.

Please, don’t try to hold back the power of the ocean in your eyes.

Let yourself panic, let yourself drown, let yourself scream until you choke on your frustration
so that when you finally resurface, the sunlight will look like God and the tidal waves nothing but a lullaby.

I’m not saying it gets better
I’m saying that it doesn’t matter.

Because in five years, you will realize that pain was the universe’s way of reminding you that you still wanted to live.

Do not run away like I did or become the corpse that I am.
I cringed away from love so many times I lost my nerve endings.

No, don’t follow in my footsteps.
Or else in five years, you’ll hate yourself for your apathy
and wish you cared enough to do more than just write a letter to your old self about it.

I imagine being loved is like living on a star

It warms you at first
to know that you are someone’s prayer
their evening wish
the nightlight they hang their dreams on before falling asleep

And you smile a blinding smile as you realize that you,
one miniscule speck in the Milky Way
are a source of their inspiration and hope

God, how it burns though,
once you realize that only you can chase away their nightmares
then comfort them at the lonely hour of 2 am

And the tears they leave on your skin
are third-degree burns
because with each cry for help that you answer
everything you say begins to sound more and more like
“I will never leave”

But every star has an expiration date
and the brighter you shine
the harder it will be for them to escape unscathed
when you finally break

There is a reason it was called Atlas’s burden
To be loved or not to be loved: be careful what you choose
For when you promise to carry their world on your shoulders
it will be the first time you have everything to lose.

It is the color of her lips as she looks up at you through her eyelashes.
It is the heat running through your veins as you whirl across the dance floor.
It is the incomparable rush of bidding your sanity farewell (because one more drink wouldn't hurt, right?).

It is the taste of strawberries in the summer sun and the sound of Coke cans popping in the ocean breeze.
It is the smell of flowers growing on clifftops where most people never dare to go.

It is all you can see when you scream.

It is romance, catharsis, anger, exhilaration.
And it reminds you that you are alive.

i have heard people compare love to sand castles
beautifully temporary
eroding slowly then all at once into the unforgiving sea of reality

but you were a lightning strike
charging headfirst into me in hopes of finding balance
and a way to stay grounded
you kissed me and i burned-
the scattered fragments of me rushing back into each other
melting then cooling, a temper quicker than my own

now i am sea glass, smoothed down to crystal clarity
impure particulate grit with clenched jaw, teeth grit
fighting weather i can stand or whether i cannot

i tell you this to explain that i will not fade away or dissolve
my heart permanently branded with the imprint of your hand
my chin held high in testament to the truth that your fire can create

but if i am dropped, it will be impossible to pick up the pieces

The person who coined units of time must have known you
And understood how sixty seconds in your arms makes everything seem
Minute.

​Everyone always says
It is the content of a person's character
Not their appearance
That truly counts

But the ocean in your eyes is more beautiful than the storm underneath
And the coffee in your hair shines brighter than its the bitter taste

So I don't care that you'll tear me to shreds
With the thorns on your tongue
And promises you never meant
If you flash me a glimpse of that ivory smile
I swear to be content.

Though I listened desperately for the voice of a savior
Silence was the only sound I heard.
And as I let the tears seep from behind my closed eyelids
I finally understood how darkness could be blurred.