poetry is the way the air whispers to you
after a heavy rain,
tickling your nose and
fluttering your eyelashes,
the sky grey like your eyes
you see poetry
as you listen to the clouds move
you paint it--
with words, that is,
the flow of the letters steadily inking the page like
the rain last night i think
poetry is the way we breathe.
-a.c.b

I'm jealous of the rain
It gets close to you
Closer than I ever will
It touches your skin
It combs your hair
It comes when you're sad
It stays when you're happy
I love you but you don't love me
So I say
I'm jealous of the rain

first you need to pick a red flag of a boy.
make sure he's got beautiful eyes,
and a smile you can write poetry about.
actually,
make sure he is poetry--
find metaphors in his dimples and
similes in his crooked teeth.
the catch is, he can't be a good one.
he must have a tragic flaw,
something your friends can't stop pointing out to you.
for now, ignore those warnings and just focus on him--
talk to him whenever you can,
think about him,
write about him.
become drunk off his voice and imagine what his lips taste like.
fill your daydreams with phantom thoughts of him,
months & months flying by until
you can't imagine life without
the beautiful boy in the grey sweater.
now remember--
you're not actually with him yet,
yes
this builds the suspense
makes you wonder
if you'll ever actually taste his lips.
so keep your comfortable distance,
give him time
to make up his mind
if he wants to date you.
yes,
you've heard how he is with other girls,
you've heard what he's done to their ****** hearts
but oh never
could this boy do these horrendous things
he's too pure
says all the right things
but oh always
is the question banging in the back of your skull, now you MUST
give into those urges,
do it
feel it
ask it, ask him if he's
ever
going
to love you.
but you'll wish you hadn't,
because the hesitation will already be out of his mouth
before you can take it back,
his next words along the lines of:
"i thought we'd maybe just
have some fun together, if you know what i mean"
and the broken angel he's been hiding from you
for months,
the monster your friends have been warning you about
for months
will finally be brought to the light.
and that splitting pain of betrayal will come flooding in--
i'm telling you
this is a surefire way
to break your own heart.
-a.c.b

my hand grazed your bicep
i was jostled, i landed in your chest
i laughed as you joked
suddenly feeling out of breath.
you flashed that smile, threw up a peace sign
i could see your face perfectly.
butterflies playing bumper cars in my stomach
god, the way you were looking at me.
it lasted only a moment,
felt like two or three
but two hours later and i can’t stop thinking about it
there’s no place i’d rather be
than with you right now,
i yearn to meet your eyes
to talk for hours and kiss and laugh
and never say goodbye.  
my head says “don’t catch feelings”
but my heart says “why not?”
you’re sensitive, smart, and funny
and so freaking hot!
i’m trying to stay away, i swear
but it’s so **** hard
because you walked into my life and blinded me
by the perfection you are.
-a.c.b

I want to write about what hurts because I think it will
Stop me from hurting. If I put these words on
A page then they will be easier to digest.
Poetry isn't curative by creation, it is
Just confession. Still, these remedial
Lines are what I turn to when I am holding
Too much in my hands. Right now, I feel
Like I am overflowing onto the ground below me.
For the first time,
I don't want to write about what hurts. I want
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me. I want
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can.
I should write
About how we've said goodbye so
Many times that it turned into a threat, a weapon
We made with our tongues.
I should write
About how I lied and got away with it,
How you got caught with
Your hands tied and no one to blame.
I should write
About how it was over before we waved the white
Flag, and I know what it means now
To hold onto a sinking ship.
I've never had anything to die for.
I should write about how I've never wanted
Something so much that I devastated it completely.
We loved in harsh conditions, under sun and darkness and
I don't know how to write about how
The love didn't save us.
I don't write about letting go as much as I write about
Holding on, and I want
That to change.
I don't want to write hurt just to feel it.
The next poem I write about you will be
About me. About how I held on and how I let go.
It won't be about your love, it will be about
Mine. It won't stop me from hurting, but
It is how I make it out
Of my love alive.

“But what about all the things you told me?”
He asked her, quietly, his voice a faint, timid whisper,
More afraid of the answer than the question.
She stares motionless, not trusting her voice,
Knowing it will betray her... like before.
“You said you’d stay with me forever.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek,
As silent as the stars above, yet as loud as a rushing waterfall.
“You said we’d have a family together, a home.”
She was forced to sit down on the plush loveseat,
An ironic backdrop to the turmoil that was slowly unfolding.
“You said I was your one and only.”
She notices the trembling in his voice,
The soft, quivering whimper, much like a puppy,
That betrays he is close to tears.
“Your forever and always.”
She can hardly hear him, so she leans in closer,
Gazing into his watery eyes, swimming with honest tears.
“You said you had written my name on your heart.”
Mustering her strength, courage, and will, she responds:
“Only in pencil.”