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.

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.

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?

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.”

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.

they tell me the raised marks on my skin are an overgrowth of scar tissue
and i wonder why both my mind and my body will try so aggressively to cover up a past wound that it just becomes another

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.

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.

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

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 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

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.

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.

if relationships were seasons, they'd call us autumn
because every moment, I'm falling behind or you're leaving
either way, it is a relentless race to bleak and barren ending

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.

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

It is the delicate shell of a robin's egg right before it hatches.
It is the explosion of bubbles as you dive headfirst into a pool.
It is Cinderella's dress as she danced unafraid for the very first time.
It is the sky in sunny California, interrupted only by palm trees.
It is the burst of berries in your mouth to cool you against the summer heat.
It is the wave that kisses the shore no matter how many times it's sent away.
It is the glitter of sapphires, dug up as we asked the earth for its secrets.
It is Van Gogh, who so loved the world he'd rather leave than cause it any pain.
It is the uniform of those who protect us by sea and will drown for our freedom.
It is the unexplored depths of the ocean.

So maybe,
just maybe,
it isn't such a bad thing to feel this blue after all.

you miss me in the way someone might miss their arm
but I miss you in the way they'd miss their liver
and mine is in already bad shape; despite the name, I still feel like dying

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

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 .

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.

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.

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."

No, it is is not okay
To string him along like Christmas lights
And then leave him hanging there
To burn himself out before the coming spring has the chance to keep his fire alive

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.

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

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

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…

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

'I have a girlfriend now'

Don’t react.
This is what you wanted.
This is what I wanted..?
This was what I wanted..
This was what I told him I wanted..
This was..
was this what I wanted?
It has to be
It is the only way I won’t scream
Or cry
Yes, this is what I wanted.

'She's pretty, congratulations'

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."

∞ 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. 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 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.

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 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..

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

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

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