this silver bracelet adorns my wrist.
pure, unyielding, unbreakable, inseparable.

this bracelet is semi-opaque.
transparent.

this bracelet is only visible by you and me.
personal.

this bracelet was a gift for just another day.
priceless, special, personal.

this bracelet is laced with gold veins.
intricate, unique.

this bracelet cannot be removed.
forever bound.

this bracelet would never be removed.**
forever cherished.

Tonight we don’t cry, but we’ll laugh.
Laugh when we should cry,
for tonight is our last.

Forget all the space between us,
the awkward hand holding,
the make believe, the pretend of maturity,

tonight we don’t care about all the people watching us kiss,

we’ve only been together for seven months,
but tonight feels like our infinitiest anniversary,

tonight we’ll be known to be together,
never apart,

two hands, gone from awkward
brushes to full on clutches,

immature winks to mature blushes,

soft lip grazes to kisses causing full rushes,

true love developed from innocent crushes.

When we first met, I didn’t think we’d be friends,
but a year later, I couldn’t imagine us being apart.

Sometimes I still wonder if you remember the day we went prom dress shopping together,
in the crisp Florida heat,
and the next night, telling me you’d gotten a new love interest,
a 500 ml purple bottle of Robitussin cough syrup.

I know I’ll still miss you when I take my prom pictures next week,
right in the color you always said made my wavy black hair look best,
or when I keep getting the Google notifications that you signed me up for,
the ones about Olaf and the Frozen cast going to Broadway.

Remember the nights we spent gossiping about the hotties of Pretty Little Liars?
Or the late night sing-a-long pizza parties,
long discussions surrounding your cute Colombian boy,
how you always swore marry in rich to a successful business man.

I don’t know what I was waiting for from you.
After you half-consciously walked out of the room, opened the window to look back in,
just to hurt me, to see the wall that had sprung up between us,
the one you’d always blamed on me, but that we both remember you building yourself.

But from what I’ll always remember,
you were the slippery eel, the leech, in the strength and weakness of my life,
who ****** on my happiness to fill your own open voids and problems,

dragged me away from m life and my friends, to fill your place yourself,
bulldoze me out of my own life, my own home and place.

So, dear eel, continue on.
Swim through and far away,
from the lake, that still yet remains in my memory.

deep brown eyes glide over curves, rolls, edges,

while shaky hands pull back strands of glistening black yarn protecting her thoughts and ideas, allowing flowers to burst forth from her eyes the size of sunflowers,

and his shaky hands trace over unseen scars, the translucent ones only he can see as he eyes her heart and pulls out the broken chords,

only he can hear the mournful song that escapes her lips at night when she is alone by her windowsill, darkness encapsulating her, holding her, suffocating her.

he says he loves her,

but that which she believes is false, she knows not if she is to believe this too, despite the soft comforting feel of his bare shoulders to rest and stabilize,

she doubts him. he shakes in awe of her, in admiration of her,

but she has still to allow him to be a part of her too.

To the boy with the bad eyebrows,
you were everything I wasn't allowed.
But I didn't like you,
I liked the feeling of liking you.

To the boy who Bollywood dances so well,
We would be so stereotypical,
Indian with Indian,
yet somehow we never came upon eachother.
We should be friends.

To the boy who salutes,
you were the first real one,
and I don’t know if I wanted it,
but it was unexpected.
It just wasn't meant to happen,
but I don't want you to ever leave.
There will always be something here,
I'll always draw to you.

To the boy who made me famous as his rival,
we would be so perfect together.
I've never liked someone as much as you.
Take a jump with me,
I'm sure we would make it beautiful.

To the Venezuelan boy who gave good hugs,
summer flings can't get any better.
We both knew that wouldn't last,
but it was good while it did.

To the boy who's the lion to my inner tiger,
We're almost the same,
and this could've worked,
but I pushed myself into it half-heartedly;
this is for her, not for me.
It just wasn't right.

he holds you tight and you know you won’t fall, for you are riding the roller coaster, climbing the hill, taking the plunge, strapped to a moving piece of metal, stricken with fear, but feeling him kiss your neck over and over again in real time, you’re frozen, your hands can’t move but they want to scream, flying through time and space, you forget to laugh and look into his eyes and see the years of tears rolling down his cheeks knowing that you won’t ever be the cause of them and enjoy the moment but you don’t manage to feel free from the burden of what they expect for you and the way they pry into the deepest trickle of what you feel for him and somewhere along the way while you lose the feeling in your fingers to grab his and never let go you hear him laugh and feel his cheek glide next to yours, like the wind around is pushing you together and it’s ******* beautiful the way his heartbeat jumps with yours over the glistening lake, falls down the hill, takes the plunge, the ride is the reason your lips forgot how to kiss him but he is the reason you forgot to breathe.