Age 5
There we sat, you in criss cross applesauce,
I sat on my chicken legs.
I remember your small curls didn’t come past your ears
As we slurped our apple juice and gabbed on about Harry Potter.
Our stubbornness and entitlement matched.

Age 7
I remember the day you told me that we were growing apart.
You told me that I wanted to grow up too fast for you,
I think it was my lipstick that did it.
We grew separately.

Age 13
Six years past, and we had finally matched up again.
Growth and maturity was as similar as it could be,
But now I needed to be something for you:
A specific mixture of contentment, judging, intelligence
and a spirit that we both always wanted.

15
You were blossoming before my eyes, I felt as though
I owned some part of that, we were close knit and joyous.
We belonged together again.
You didn’t like the strange boy who came into my life,
you neglected my heart he resided in,
I moved things around to make you room
but again, it wasn't enough.

16
Effort was engraved in my voice,
I wanted our mismatched souls together again.
I felt as though I was begging
on my knees for our unconventional love.
Do you remember our fight? Where I believed
we were finally expressing enough to progress to a real level.
I realized the aimlessness of trying to affect you.

17
There were still spurts of hope in us,
but finally I cut the chord, I doubt you noticed.
Even our glances I struggled to make sure were not glares.
Then the miracle moment, you stand next to me
and speak the empty words, “How are you? I haven’t talked to you in a while.”
In the same voice I sculpted to not sound desperate.
You spoke it effortlessly with no substance,
that right there
was when I truly understood we just never matched up.

Less than a week ago, my mind, soul and body orbited you.
Long hours of phone talk had diminished to me
obsessing over your facebook page.
Refresh.
Pictures of stomach throbbing sights force loss of self focus and concentration.
The sight of you being feet away from her and simple conversation weakens me.
Refresh.
The idea of closure doesn’t exist in your world.
So lead me on, weeks and weeks.
Month and month.
You have disinherited my love songs, back cracks, back strokes, and your life size teddy bear.
Believe it or not, I am not an emotionless *** toy-
like you are.
Refresh.
Who I am should reflect something our love could never purchase.
My maple heals will feel like stabs in your moronic choice.
My lace dress will feel like the dream that you must awaken from.
My body will look like a mystery to you, **** face.
In less than a week, I metamorphosed into the girl you couldn’t get
Again.
At least you were warned.
Close and Sign off.

Awake at the crack of moonshine, and its our choice.
We live for a day, though, it isn’t our last.
Every woman speaks up for her muffled voice.
The children have the longest, hardest past.
The nuns swear at God while they **** the priests
There’s forgiveness and understanding within the stubborn man’s mind
And peace is spread through the Middle East.
The critic allows himself to be blind.
Black policemen have cars filled of white men in the backseat
The Catholics let their bodies take over their morals
The vegans stuff their face bragging of their raw meat
The new widow in mourning wears nothing but florals.
Men and men. Women and woman unite their love with “I Do”’s
The watches decide to stop all time
The artist killed off his most helpful muse
Not living his life was the old man’s only crime.

Perhaps I’m too young to comprehend you.
I miss the gentleness of generic words
If only my soft, kind touch was yours too
To my misfortune, my flinches, unheard.
Apologize for the scrape from the ground,
As time heals my heart, it just makes a bruise
You say sorry without making a sound
Don’t leave now when it’s everything I’ll lose
Rise until midnight, where I say I am strong
Blinded by your shadow, who I think you are
But I will not leave, I come back by dawn
If only who we were wasn’t masked by a scar
Kiss me again, I’m thrown into your pool
Those generic three words make me a fool

We hold a soul between our two hearts.
You: the armor
I: the misplaced
Us… We don’t share the universal love songs.
Not the congruent taste of politics.
Of genres
Of wealth
Our soul is an alien to society
God fooled our soul
Our past present future is all we share
Past, a multitude of mistakes we knew we were making
Present, an unforgivable regret
the Future.
Us hold,
A destiny we’re aware will not be our dreams.