last English class of the day, hoodie on, earphones on, Modest Mouse Ocean Breathes Salty, sun half-way down, subtly setting, slight breeze, hold down hoodie as I walk, half-empty parking lot. a lot of halves. many things empty, never the mind. language is strange and fascinating. there is a single brown leather boot in the center of the freeway’s entrance cross walk. I notice this, it moves me. lost soles in the city. I image myself getting run over by a passerby, a single navy Sk8-Hi left behind. everything is a story. Del Taco drive-thru, two-for-four fish tacos, I’ve given up on any other kind of meat. Pescatarian I’ll tell them from now on if they ask. It doesn’t make anything better, it doesn’t undo what’s already been done, but at least I’m not contributing to the damage. At least I have that choice. Teenage girl in red beanie, black Adidas joggers, spray can in hand. It is Thursday, this is the city I live in. The Strokes released four new songs today, I signed up for their mailing list. I might go out for dinner later on, but until then I’m not anywhere else.

Did we meet by accident?
Or was it all a plan of God
Starting from the womb of your great-grandmother
And eighty-eight unnamed constellations before that

I write to you not knowing who you are. I think about you everyday. I am in my evening humanities lecture hall listening to Joaquín Rodrigo's Second Movement of Concierto Aranjuez and I can feel my soul unraveling. I don't believe it is a calling for me to be a poet, but I can feel its presence instilled in the very core of my being. Poetry pulling at the chords of my lungs, accelerating my heart beat, causing me to breathe unsteadily. I believe in you. Eleven minutes and fourteen seconds is more than I could ask for, yet it will never be enough. I will never stop wanting, desiring. You're out there somewhere. My words are yours.

I sit and watch it from my rooftop

Today I bought a pack of cigarettes just to feel closer to you

In another universe, we've already been in love with each other for a very long time. In another universe, you've always been my best friend.

Maybe one day
We'll laugh
At the distance

I miss the times
Of going to sleep
With someone in mind
To think about

I wish I could hug my grandmother
One last time

The sky is swollen, there is no place to hide

Looking back at conversations we once had
Still unsettles me
And causes me a bit of pain

When being alone doesn't help
And surrounding yourself with people doesn't help
Have you ever felt this helpless?

I didn't comb my hair today
I've still the sour scent of last nights sweat
On my stomach, on my chest

There is a tear in my pillowcase
And I do not know
How to sew

I'm not sad yet, but I can feel myself getting there
I can't remember the last time I didn't feel nervous, anxious
These past years hiding behind the pursuit of a Bachelor's degree
English major I respond when they ask
These past years waiting for something, someone
That never seems to come

I think it's best I haven't met you yet
Yet, that hopeful word
That senseless word
That breaks me apart, holds me together
To the little sense I have left

I am alone
Surrounded by everyone
My heart is blue
And I am wearing
Mustard yellow

It all starts and ends with love
It all starts and ends with hurt
My eyes were made for crying
But I'm not the only one

I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out what I wanted
I’m sorry I wasn’t good to you
I’m sorry I could never be good for you
I never properly apologized
I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m sorry

You were there for me when I still didn't know that I needed you
You were there for me, but I still didn't know that I needed you
You'd be here for me right now if it weren't for me
The realization of this ruins me, and I deserve it

I have a customer at work who is turning 91 on Valentines day. Her name is Ann, she doesn't believe in using cellphones, and she has the clearest blue eyes I think I've ever seen. I'm not sure why little details like this stick with me, a sticky note of sort attached to my brain and heart. Sometimes I'm scared of these little details, of learning too much about a person. It scares me to know that these details that make me so fond of a person will be the same details to sting my heart the most if ever the day comes in which that person is no longer around. little ghosts found everywhere, little ghosts that remind me when I'm trying to forget, little ghosts that effortlessly and casually whisper in my ear and tug at my heart. We've been learning more about each other lately. Slowly, gradually, quite deliberately, now that I think of it, we've been taking our time, careful not to reveal too much, but anxious, anxious to learn as much about each other as we can. The thought of everything I've learned about you so far makes my heart swell. This, too, terrifies me. Yet I want more of you. These things can be difficult to make sense of, and there is this part of me that doesn't wish to understand. Devendra Banhart's lyrics echo in the open spaces between my bones and blood vessels, insisting, pleading for you to *please destroy me, please destroy me, please destroy me

I needed you

If I put you under my skin
Will it be easier to get over you?

En la madrugada
Existe dios

Y como yo
Llora  por un amor
Que debería haber sido
Y nunca lo será

Your go to guy
When you can't find the words to say
Cause people are too much
And the world is not enough
And you're trying to keep sane
And you're afraid to **** it up
But aren't we all
A little stuck
A bit overwhelmed
A little lost

2:20 on a Sunday afternoon, and I am afraid. I am afraid I'll one day forget the way this song moves me, the way it grasps my heart with invisible hands and pulls it out of my chest, past my mouth, past my head, leaving my mind perplexed and dizzy.

I am afraid you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me and I do not realize it.

There will come a day that I will not wake up to your disheveled hair and hagioscopic eyes, there will come a day that your warm skin pressed firmly against mine will not be the first thing I feel as I wake up to the rising of a new morning, and the idea, the mere thought of this brings me so much fear.

I am afraid of my heart, of its potential of becoming overtly attached, of becoming foreign and distant to a love it knows the most, to a love it keeps most close. I am afraid of my eyes, of their potential to overlook and oversee, images, moments, the passing of time, other sets of eyes.

I am afraid my layers of darkness, profound and crestfallen, will impede you from seeing any speck of light in me.

We are in the front seats of your mustard yellow Subaru. This used to be your father's car when he was a college student in the 70's. It's strange how timing, location, and decisions changes everything. If your mother would have never left Savannah for Berkeley, or if your father would have left Berkeley for Kansas State, it would still be 11:45 on a Friday night but we would not be here. But here we are, in the Starbucks parking lot, my head leaning on your shoulder, your hand resting on my knee. "I'm glad I didn't die before I met you," I whisper. "I could go anywhere with you and I'd probably be happy," you respond as First Day of My Life fades into the background, luring our eyes to close. Sitting in these front seats, in the future looking back, I know that this is where I belong, they belonged, you belong, we belong.

I'm not sure what's worse
Getting your heart broken
Or waiting around for a love that will never come

It is 53 degrees tonight
And my skin is unusually soft, softer than it's ever been
Perhaps it is my body
Trying to convince you to stay

I'll do anything for you.

I'll learn to play the cello for you
Move out to the city for you
I'll be there for you, more than I can, every time, always

When the movie is over
And we're the last two sitting in the center of reclining seats
I will hold your hand and keep my body still while you sink into
Your pondering mind of a thousand feelings

I'll drink slurpees with you in the winter
And drive for hours without reason
Without having to ask me to, I will

I'll be less shy
And get along with your friends
Take you out to dance
And be the first to text

Anything you want
Anything you need
I'll do anything

All of me
My bits and scrap, entirely
Are yours to keep
But I will not say I love you

Listening to Arcade Fire’s Milk and Honey, I am slowly drowning in a sea of memories and melancholic images of things I’ve always wanted but will probably never have. My body soaked in bubbling foam, lying on the border of wet and dry sand, softly being kissed by a morning suns warmth after having been brought back to shore by the same waves that dragged me out

Sometimes at night I picture you holding me
And I can almost feel it
And it makes me sort of sad

I like things that make me sad
I don't think I'll ever not be late
I'm trying to figure out a way to think outside of myself
I'm so limited within this unconditional heart
I'm trying to figure out a way to think inside of you
Lift my body from your bed, and leave my soul tucked in to rest

I've never known what it feels like
To be loved by a man
Yet you've loved me all along

My beau’s eyes are pins on an atlas
To all the places I’d like to go
Andorra, Saint Lucia, Underwater Atlantis
Colombia, Christmas Island, New Mexico
His body is a masterpiece
Just thinking of it makes me want to shout
I have never seen a more exquisite centerpiece
As when he sits on the table with flowers in his mouth
To describe his kisses is a foolish thing to do
There are not enough words to express
How the taste of his tongue as sweet as honey dew
Are enough to make the soul undress
And yet, with all these things considered, I know he is not The One
For him I feel a thousand feelings, but not one of them is love.

Enclosed in off-white shell
Dug beneath earths dirt
Six feet underground
Pending, awaiting for the day
To be yours

In shadowed bloom
I rise
My body, soft and ripe
Yearns for your touch
To be only yours

You break me from my stem
Rip me from my roots
As I lay in the flame of your hand
You pierce your fingernails through my skin
Like shards of ice

Mercilessly, you peel off my layers
Leaving me all veins and flesh
I was made for you

Impudently, you apply me to your tongue
Your jagged teeth bite down
Sweetly, I burst in you

Turn to liquid in your mouth
Fill your organs
Quench your thirst
I am yours

You spit out
My bones when
You are done
And
I do not dwell

All that you’ve made of me
Lives inside you now

I sometimes wish
I could be as small in size
As I often feel in my mind

So I could curl up into
A tiny ball of lint
And rest inside the pocket
Of my father's woven jacket

I don’t necessarily fear death. The thing is that I know it is going to happen and although I may never fully understand why it must or grasp the concept of it, I accept it, I accept death just as much as I do living, but the thing here is…I still haven’t fallen in love a second time after having my heart broken that first time. There are many note cards I haven’t written to the people I love, to the people I admire. There are botanical gardens I’ve never been to and literal roads I’ve yet to take. I want to drive through them, walk through them, jog through them on foggy morning, sunny evening, mid-winter day. I’ve never tried playing the banjo, bought a lottery ticket, or lived with roommates or a boyfriend on the second floor of a four story apartment that overlooks a deli shop somewhere in Los Angeles or New York City. I still haven’t treated my grandmother to a gals day out, I’ve never dyed my hair some absurd color, I’ve yet to taste a  crème brûlée. There are so many courses I still want to take, so many things I still want to learn, clubs on campus that I want to be a part of, books I’ve yet to read, songs I want to listen and re-listen to. There are still things, so many things, there are still the words “I’ve yet” and “still” and more than anything the words “I’ve never.” These are the words, these are things that get to me, that fill me with restless thoughts and wavering emotions at 5 05 am. I can hear birds chirping and roosters cooing from outside my window, my parents heartbeats are lovely and synchronized a bedroom over, the voice of sufjan stevens is resonating from my laptops speakers, my legs feel hot underneath this linen sheet and woven blanket, my eyes don’t feel as tired as they probably should, and I am not ready. I’m not ready to let this all go. not yet. and that, although not death itself, is my greatest fear of dying.

I believe in the accuracy of horoscopes
I like listening to classic folk tunes
And getting lost in the dark
I like my car to smell nice
It almost always smells either like cherries or cotton candy
I like doing things by myself
It's sort of difficult for me to be in relationships
I don't think I've ever had a genuine friendship
At least not one where I could break down and cry
And truly open up myself with
I'm 22 and I'm still confused, stuck
Terrified about what I'm doing with my life
Career wise, heart wise, soul wise
And overall personal wise
I'm not as stylish as I used to be, sometimes I don't mind it
Sometimes I don't care at all, but most times I'm self-conscious
But I'm quite accepting of my insecurities
I'm still learing how to become one with myself
I'm still learning how to love myself unconditionally
I don't know what I'm getting to
But I'm getting there
And it will be for the better
I will live a satisfying life
I'll be happy
I'll be sad
I'll be in love
I'll be overwhelmed
I'll be many things, many times
I will make it

You are the sun while I am asleep

You are the sun as I stand to my feet

You are the sun when my mind becomes dark

You are the sun

You are the moon when I get out of bed

You are the moon as I start off my day

You are the moon when I fall on my head

You are the moon

I’m just so tired, and too exhausted to cry, and too numb to be sad, and I don’t know what this is all for, but I can’t stop from trying. And these words weigh me down more than the poems I have not written. And It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the moon, and I’m afraid there is no purpose to my heart, and every thing seems distorted, and I’m tired of my skin, and stating this aloud feels pathetic and useless. I really need a break from my self. It’s one of those days, again.

I know
You are
Not
The one
For me
But
Kiss me
Anyway

Selfish
I am the worst
Kind of selfish
I am the selfless kind of selfish
That unconditionally does nice things
For other people
Solemnly because it makes me feel limitedly better
About myself

I cried for you in my dream last night,
even in unconsciousness I miss you.

I felt like writing
A haiku for you today
But I decided

To write these ******* lines
To you
Instead

I am going to pretend
That I have never heard what you are telling me
That way you aren't telling me
Something I already know

Last night I wept for you on the A train
Melodramatically, in my mind

You were holding her hand
Pressing her sadness against your baked skin
So that she might feel a little better
And oh, how she did

How you made her forget
If even for a little while
The image of his eyes from her mind
By looking into yours

But I can still see it through mine
And her
And you
And him
And these words

Betray me
Run me over
Make me sick

I paint my nails the color of pomegranate
The color of an open heart

I look like ****, but I feel phenomenal

I made a playlist for you once
Composed of twenty-two songs
The number of our age

I don't know why I'm fond of you
I've grown indifferent to most things by now

I'm smaller as an adult than I was as a child

If I had a home, I'd like you to come over
If you had the book of secrets
Would you share a secret with me?

There is music throughout the night
That only sounds while we are sleeping

There are faces we'll never see
And hands we'll never hold

There is meaning in reoccurring dreams

I cannot tell if it is cold outside
Or if I've come too close to the sun

I once wrote the words
"I'm gonna get run the **** over and be glad about it"
On an evening walk to my English class at school

Feelings change constantly
All the time

sometimes I feel things too strongly
sometimes I feel nothing at all
it is critical you know these things about me
before you get further involved

I need you to try
I need you to cry
I need you to die a little
For me

****** absorbing the blood in me
my ******* aren't like in the magazines
eyes darker than the coffee you drink
you do not love me because you don't know how to love
indifferences come to me in threes
two for you, one for me
I cannot bring myself to feel today
I've forgotten how to wish

sitting, laughing, smoking, crying
dying in the inn