I can still feel your lips on mine
Your vibrations still linger
Even though you said good night
And went home

I’m counting down the days
Until I get to see your face
And feel your lips on mine again

I should’ve kissed you when I should’ve kissed you
I missed my chance for good
If I just would’ve let myself be happy
And not listened to her
Maybe we could’ve been

i keep asking what happened to us
but the truth is
there was never an us
just me
and just you
sometimes in the same room

i am so sick and tired of the cancer game, that is merely what it is; a game. this game is four quarters long (on the other hand we could say it was four years). you watch from the bench as your team and cancer each score goals, each winning at different times in the game. but cancer is strong and a hell of a lot better at fighting. you sit on the bench, kicking and screaming, as you watch cancer tear your team to shreds. cancer doesn’t give up.

1st quarter; your team is winning, but still unable to walk without a walker.

2nd quarter; cancer is kicking *** and you keep begging to be put in, you want to help fight; it’s not your turn yet. cancer is winning.

3rd quarter is a race against time, the teams are tied, but you know what is going to happen, but no one wants to say it; you’ve already lost the game.

4th quarter; the game might as well be over. everyone has stopped cheering. they’ve lost all hope, but you continue to scream because you won’t be able to come back from this season.

10 minutes left; 3 months. the team has pretty much stopped playing; treatment is stopped. you still think your team will win, because they’ve pulled through before, right?

5 minutes left; 1 month. you hold tight to your team, you cannot stop holding tight. you know the ending, but no one will say it, still. you cherish every blank stare and gibberish speech. you take in exactly how she says your name and the way she holds her spoon. the game is coming to an end.

10 seconds left; 1 week. it’s getting harder, the field is dark and slippery, you cannot see what is right in front of you.

5 seconds left; 3 days. you hold your teammate as she sobs on the bench. you make do.

3 seconds left; 2 days. a time where you should be celebrating. you continue to look deeper within for some sort of answer from God, but you’re so full of doubt and despair that you cannot seem to find Him within the mess.

1 second left; 1 day. you call your mom to tell her about the game and how you cannot see a thing, but she is watching closer than you. you ask how the player is doing and she tells you it’s almost over. you find yourself praying for the end to come sooner, now maybe; but you can’t seem to imagine life without the game.

0 seconds left; the end. you stop, but the world around you keeps going. you’re broken inside, but you can barely keep it hidden. you walk out with a smile, that everyone can see through. you’re not going to be okay for a while. your nonni, she’s gone.

you go to the recognition ceremony and hold your cousin’s hand while others talk about the greatest player of all time, but you cannot seem to find the strength inside you to stand up and share how you found God again and how your nonni is to thank, because oh how awful it sounds to thank someone for having cancer and breaking you. you cling to your seat for days, wishing that things would change, but they don’t

you will have more seasons; better ones and worse ones too, you will get through them too.

men always compare me to intoxicating
substances

once i was ******* because i made him
feel high the instance he met me and he
seemed to forget all the pain

another time i was a top shelf label
whiskey, made him feel so good whenever
he needed it and boy did he need it

the good kush, he said, "because you
make me feel relaxed"

once i was compared to shrooms.
i made him see the world differently like we were
in a different dimension

and in the end, they all decided to get
clean

hello there,
it’s 9:42 pm on august 5 2019
i’m writing this to tell you a few things

1. i’m lost. I don’t belong in or belong to ythis world. nor do I belong to anyone or anything. I am a lost soul. an immortal soul.

2. I will never stop. I will never stop caring, writing, loving, feeling, living, existing.

3. a lot of books have words. a lot of paintings hav4e paint. a lot of schools have students. a lot of boys have eyes, but none like yours.

4. time is a concept. 3 months from now is tomorrow. reality is a perception. you meant every word you said.

5. I don’t know who this is for, probably you.

I hope we cross paths again.

thank you.

love alwayss,
AS

I hope you find peace
in this life
in knowing that you are whole
even if you are broken
you are still a whole person

I hope you find peace
in words
beautifully written words
especially the words I said to you

I hope you find love
and I hope you let yourself
receive the love you deserve
not the lack of love you think you deserve

I hope you find me
again, someday soon
when we’re both ready
and willing to fall in deeply
because I know in my heart
you will find your way back eventually

someone else.
maybe that would help me move on.

drugs.
maybe that would **** enough brain cells, specifically the ones hanging on to you.

bleach.
maybe that would clean my brain from any remnants of you.

a concussion.
maybe that would keep me from thinking of you.

a lobotomy.
maybe that would make me forget you for a bit.  

a coma.
maybe that would be enough to escape you.

anything.
maybe i would do literally anything to stop myself from thinking about you.

my mind is trying to find a reason
why this may be happening
but it keeps searching
and it keeps coming up empty

there is no explanation
or logical reason
there is no solution
to this problem

you said so many beautiful words
and they’re saying
none of them meant anything to you
but how could i believe them
when i know your eternal soul?
why would you say those things
and not mean them?

you were told your whole life
that you are not good
and then you let that become your destiny
but why
why did you let someone else
dictate who you are?

it took one person
to tell you that you are bad at math
that you are a bad kid
that you are bad at cooking
that you are bad at living
that you are just bad

but it also takes one person
and you believing them
to realize
that you are good at math
that you are a good kid
that you are good at cooking
that you are good at living
that you are good

change your destiny
to who you want to be
be good if you want to be good
you don't have to be bad
all because someone told you that you are

"i am too broken," i tell myself
but everyone has broken pieces, some bigger than others.
you find beauty in broken,
so find it in yours too.

if tomorrow our sky is no longer blue
it would be
the color of your eyes
the night you kissed me
under the red, green, blue lights
the way your soul lit up
when you looked at me
for a second,
i forgot the world existed
i forgot how to breathe
i want to remember
the color of your eyes

they’re not even sky blue
but i wouldn’t mind
naming the color of the sky
after them

my mom thinks
no boy will ever deserve me
but
my dad thinks
the man who deserves me
is the one who knows he doesn't

when you kiss me
i forget how to breathe

it's about the time of year
that i get sad again
it's about the time of year
that i found out you were dying,
i didn't know if you'd be here at christmas

it's about the time of year
where you started slurring words
and forgetting things too,
but you bought me those boots for christmas
and told me about them a month early
you were so happy about them

it's about the time of year
where i can't breathe
i don't know if it's because of asthma
or if i'm imagining
how it felt to breathe like that

it's about the time of year
where i'd imagine i was on a boat
in the middle of a faraway lake in the UP
i'm a child again and she's much younger too
she's not sick, she's not dying

it's about the time of year
where cancer took my nonni's brain
and made her forget who she was
and how to do things

it's about the time of year
where i cried myself to sleep every night
and prayed to God,
that he'd take anyone but her, take me instead

one in ten women they say
that’s a hell of a lot of women

but still i’m here
at twenty years of age
speaking with the doctor
about infertility
and pain only manageable by
hormones and narcotics

we talk of a diagnosis
only discoverable by surgery
there has to be a better way
there has to be

you are a bunch of different things
but not someone i ever thought i’d write about

you were the cute guy in my class
the one i looked forward to talking to

you were the one i shared music with
the one i didn’t know if i liked

you were the one who helped me study
the one who did more distracting than helping

you were the one who kissed me
the one who made me feel things i haven’t felt in years

you were the one who heard me
the one who still liked me, despite all my problems

you were the one who couldn’t be in a relationship
the one who i can’t have

you were the one who i never thought i’d write about

when i was younger
someone once told me
that when you have a dream
about someone
that it means they were thinking
about you
before they went to bed

i know that can’t possibly be true
but i’m still going to think of you
every night before i fall asleep
in hope that one day you’ll have a dream
and it will be about me
and you’ll know i was thinking
about you

i often find myself thinking of your hands
sometimes they’re on my stomach
because you like to feel me breathe
other times they’re drawing circles on my inner thighs

sometimes i think about your lips
are they on my neck
or are they just on my lips?
are they speaking sweetly
or saying nothing at all?

i’m thinking of your hands again
this time they trail my body
and your lips? i’m thinking of those too
this time you use them to kiss my whole body

i’m thinking of you
and how all i want is you
i want to feel your touch
i want to feel your lips
i want you

i wasn’t scared of meeting you
and not feeling a single thing
i was scared of not meeting you
and never knowing

i’m almost certain
that we’d feel something
so why couldn’t we
just try?

kiss me if i'm wrong, but
kinda crazy how much we have in common
guess you found your perfect match
were about 98% compatible
dj smarty pants.

is this what true love feels like?
you're cute just for existing
you ****** my heart

i want to go on an adventure with you
i'd rather cuddle
let's turn some potential energy into kinetic energy
no one actually finds love like that

i guess i got my answer
if you say so
(you said cuddles fix everything, but i don't think they can fix this)

i’m not a glass of water
you can’t just set me down
and forget about me
until you decide that
you’re thirsty again

i wonder if you remember
what we said to each other;
if you still think about
what we could have been

i wonder if you remember
my last name; if one
day you'll google me and
read this and wonder if
it's about you.

it's about you, if you called me cute,
if you were silly,
if you liked my pickup lines,
if you never met me,
if you ignored me, if you rudely texted me,
if you viewed all my stories,
then deleted me.

this is about you. i don't know
what to say. i want to text you,
but i hid your number from
myself. i guess i'll just say i'm sorry
we ended before we even began. they
say the good die young, and i
guess that's why whatever we had
died so early. i'm sorry for
all i said and for all you
didn't say.

poets say “i love you” in many different ways,
they rarely actually say the three words

they’ll say “i want to write poetry about you”
or “hold me until i’ve come up with ten metaphors about how it feels to have your arms around me”

they’ll say “you’re like a cup of iced tea on a hot summer day”
or “your eyes are like ocean waves ready to pull me out to sea”

they’ll say “you make me want to write happy poems”
or “you make me feel less depressed”

poets rarely say “i love you” because it never has held enough meaning to them, because to be loved means to be hurt.

i want to kiss you
at every red light
both figuratively and literally

i want to kiss you
when life gets hard
and when **** happens

i want to kiss you
in the 30 seconds we have
at each intersection

i want to kiss you
always.

you say these butterflies will fly away eventually
but we could choose for them to stay
the nectar on your skin is sweet enough
to keep them coming back

butterflies need to keep moving, flying all around
so we'll leave them in our stomachs
and give them the freedom that our love allows

we'll name each butterfly after our favorite candies
because we feel sweet inside
filled up with each other's love

when a storm hits i don't want the butterflies to flee
after all a storm fades into light
even when things get hard, our love will remain
because the butterflies gather for things deeper than beautiful feelings

i want to remember
exactly what you looked like
the day i first met you

i want to remember
the way you said my name
and tapped your fingers
on the table
because you were nervous

i want to remember
the way you walked
and the way you ordered
your coffee

i want to remember
the shirt you wore
and the way
you did your hair

i want to remember
it all;
every little piece of you

they are my famiglia
they are italian, polish and maltese,
probably a lot of other things too
we're basically mutts
there are five of us, if you include the dog
they are the best

there's my mom;
i call her "ma" or "woman" or "mom" or "mama" or "rochelle", if i want to irritate her
she's the best cook in the world
she always calls me her "bambina"
and sings me songs and writes me cute notes
she's my best friend and biggest fan (sorry dad)
i'm convinced she can read my mind,
even when i'm 2 1/2 hours away, she can tell when something's wrong
she's the best mom in the world

and then, there's my dad;
i call him "dad" or "daddy" or "bob" because he doesn't seem to care
he's hilarious and actually tells good dad jokes
he loves talking about
government conspiracies and
new health trends he's trying
he calls my mom just to say "i love you" and buys me flowers on valentine's day because "i want you to know what a man should do for you one day"
he's so great, i hope i marry a man like bob one day

and there's my brother;
i call him "bro" or "broski" or usually just, "bobby"
he loves me with all his heart
but cannot hug me
because his ocd clouds his mind
he's funny and loves the oldies
he also loves trips to chipotle with me
he won't tell me about girls
because "you'll tell mom," but will talk to me about everything else
gosh i love him with all my heart too

and there's my dog;
who we all call "boo" and sometimes i call him some random nickname
he's so cute, but super vicious
one minute he'll be curled up in-between your legs and the next?
he's attacking you and biting you in the lip
he's scared of thunderstorms and fireworks and people, really he's scared of everything
he's not perfect, but he loves me and i love him

and then, there's me;
they call me "dee-dee" or "aubs" or plain old, "aubrey"
i'm the first born pain in the ****,
who's dream is to marry a nice christian man, own a cafe, adopt children, have children, and just have a great family
currently, i'm in college, missing my great family
my current dream would be, sitting on the couch with my dog on my lap, my mom cooking in the kitchen, my dad hanging out in the garage building something cool, and my brother playing video games and complaining about me taking over the bathroom we share.

can you tell i miss them?
can you tell i love them?

it was never meant to
be this way
Jesus didn't come here
to create religion
he came
to create relationships

he never
wanted this divide
he only
wanted to know us
personally

this is why
we must
lay religion down
and
raise our relationship with Him up.

i remember january 2, 2015 like it was yesterday.
i remember waking up at 9:14 am with my cousin.
i remember my brother coming in my room to tell us my nonni was dead.
i remember yelling at him, like it was his fault or something.
i remember being angry.
i remember not knowing when i'd smile again.
i remember not being able to breathe.
i remember my mom coming home for the first time in five days.
i remember going through photos for the funeral.
i remember pulling out the black dress she always loved on me.
i remember three days later, seeing my nonni, so still, still beautiful.
i remember my friends and family hugging me.
i remember being numb.
i remember crying so much, i couldn't even read the eulogy i wrote.
i remember my uncle singing "you raise me up" for her.
i remember  january 6th, her funeral.
i remember slipping that black dress on.
i remember being there.
i remember people talking.
i remember a priest.
i remember maria squeezing my arm.
i remember paula reading a Bible verse.
i remember my mom holding me as my body shook.
i remember wailing as everyone took communion.
i remember not being able to stand.
i remember my friends and family trying to hug me.
i remember them carrying her out.
i remember taking a rose off her casket.
i remember holding that rose so tight, that the thorns cut my skin.
i remember remembering everything my nonni ever did or said.
i remember not thinking i'd ever get through this.
i remember screaming.
i remember trying to hide the pain.
i remember being broken.
i remember not being able to breathe.
i remember hurting.
i remember everything.
i remember her.

to the boy who treated me horribly:
as much as i dislike you, thank you.
you taught me that no one,
i mean no one should treat me the way
you did.

that no one should ignore me
that no one should forget my birthday
that no one should play me

that i should be treated with respect
that i should be loved for being me
that someone should think that everything about me is beautiful

so thank you for teaching me
that God has a better man for me,
a better man than you.

my sophomore year of high school
i found God
i found Him in achy bones and ink-stained fingertips
i found Him in late night sobs
and screaming into my pillow
i found Him in grieving
and trying to love again
i found Him in trust issues
and fragile emotional states
i found Him in brokenness beyond repair
God uses the broken, the hurt, the weary
God uses me.

with him, it’s different, you know?
i don’t feel like he is going to
break my heart and i don’t
feel the need to write about him
i don’t know what it is, but
it feels good

statistically, 1 in every 200 houses will be struck by lightning a year. i think about this as i write a million poems about our love story, our tragic love story. a love so vibrant it lit up the whole house at night. a love that died, like a storm dies as the sun peeks through the clouds.

i write in my journal about how electrical your touch was as the storm rages on outside my bedroom window. i cannot help but wonder if, just maybe my house is that 1 in 200 chance, maybe if my house got struck by lightning, it would be enough to bring the energy back, enough to make you love me again.

if i am the house at night and you are the thunderstorm, then why haven't you struck me a thousand plus times? why haven't you brought our love back to life?

it’s 9:07 and you’re suffocating me

your sting;

there’s not much i can do,

i could write a million poems for you

we spent our lives singing songs

i fell in love in the backseat of my friend’s car

as the sound of your voice echoed over the radio

but when the world unleashed itself,

loving you was worse

so, i wrote your name 100 times,

i never want to forget how you dot your i’s and cross your t’s

take me to the woods,

we can carve out names into the trees

every time i look into your eyes i am reborn

i wish the tiny voices would stop, “i can’t love you anymore”

you were a scatter of light
in my world of darkness

you pulled me in
with your dark brown eyes

your voice echoed
through me for days

i want to be yours
i want you to be mine

new moon;
i love you’s echo through the room. some may call this the honeymoon phase, but i believed it
was so much more. as your arms wrapped around me, i pictures more of our future.

waxing crescent;
you met my parents and i met yours, we were intertwining our families one by one. We started to fight, which meant our relationship was good, right?

first quarter;
first three months went by and i just about wanted to cry all the time. you came home late with lipstick on your face.

waxing gibbous;
why, why, why, why, why?
i cannot do this with you.

full moon;
i am so angry, so so angry. i screamed and scream, all you say is “i can explain” explain what? how you killed me.

waning gibbous;
i gave you an inch, but you took a mile. you will never regain my trust, but i love you.

third quarter;
i started talking to someone new and they told me to leave you. i wanted to give you one last chance.

waxing crescent;
i’m leaving soon, i saw you with her, i cannot do this anymore.

new moon;
i am made new again without the curse of you. i will be me again soon.

800 miles away
13 hour drive
3 week visits
not enough time

we want to be together
we never want to part
we are the best of best
we will be together in the end

we're sitting on the floor
there is nothing more i want
than to love you tonight

wind blowing through my hair
one eye on the road
the other on you

love me tonight
please don't leave
me tonight

i want to take away your worries
and throw them into the outgoing tide
i want to stand by your side
as we watch them float out to sea

you cry out every night for me to take away your pain
you miss her again
same as last night
same as before

i want you to love me like the way you loved her only after she left
i wish you'd pull me into your arms
and plant a kiss on my forehead
i wish i was yours

i have recently fallen ill
and i don't know if it is because he left
or because the weather keeps changing
all i know is that my body aches for anything
but these white pills and nasal spray

it's like a windstorm that's so strong you keep falling over
or maybe lightning hitting you right in the chest
or it's like that time he left and you couldn't sleep on your back
because you could see his side of the bed

i don't quite care that i've eaten
every single type of soup the world has to offer
or that i could cook you a million different dishes
because i've watched the cooking channel
for 5 days straight

the only way i think this illness would go away
is if you came back
and held me as i drank my tea with honey
and coughed my brains out

i wish you would rub my back
as i complained about being cold
or being fatigued
i just wish you'd come back

i keep telling myself to stop using you to self medicate

but the sound of your name is enough to close my wounds

remember the night I told you that you're my home and that

i wrote my poems on my skin because i wanted to place them somewhere you would notice

i asked you to take me to the mountains so we could fall in love at the highest peak

you said you wanted to reach into the sky and pull down a star for me

i don't even know who i am anymore. i'm stuck between the person i was before you and the person i am with you.

and now you're gone

sincerely, a girl who could never apologize for loving you

it is three in the morning again
and i'm clinging to the t-shirt you gave me
i've whispered your name thirty seven times
to the dust on my nightstand
and the ink stains on my bedspread.
i imagine you cling to her warmth
you no longer have to lie next to
my stone cold, anemic body
i shiver at the thought
or maybe it is the fact
that i have not eaten much
this week and that the weather
is quite frigid for the month of march.
i pull your t-shirt closer to me, trying to
create some sort of heat source. i haven't
had the thermostat on since you left
because i do not have the money to pay
for such things.
the musky scent of you no
longer lingers off your t-shirt,
my old roommate threw it in the wash
so i threw her out.
I cling tighter to your t-shirt
causing my knuckles to crack
and the dry, crisp skin on my
hands to split open
the pain doesn't hurt anymore
i am used to this pain

this heart is a ripped piece of paper, that someone tried to tape or glue. they tried to color it with pretty markers, but the edges are still rough. happiness is temporary and paper is fragile. one wrong move and the paper is ripped and the heart is broken.

i found a home
in his hollow heart
the walls creaked
while i slept

i found a home
in his narrow neck
the air ducts gurgled
while i slept

the air whirled
and the noises got louder
while i slept in
my hollow home

whisper sweet nothings
in the crook of my neck
as I slowly fall asleep

trace the skin
on my dry, unshaven legs
as I loudly snore

stay wide awake
and listen to me speak
as I am deep into a dream

wrap me up
in your husky arms
as morning approaches
we are one

you were born
with a pure light
lied over your body,
that was soon
corrupted by sin
and hatred for
your own kind,
hatred for
human beings
just like you,
society taught
you to hate
anyone different
than yourself
anyone who
may look different
or smell different
or even live different,
society robbed you
of your freedom
to choose who
you loved and
who you trusted,
society robbed you
from getting to know
the people who
may have been
exactly what
you needed in
this cruel life.

emotions bottled up
emotions about to explode
or implode, i dont know
which one is worse

emotions empty out
emotions fill up the room
they are sitting on the couch
picking at the hors d'oeuvres

emotions laugh
emotions make you cry
you scream your brains out
or maybe your heart, i dont know

emotionless
emptiness
emotionless
emptiness

my envy for you is blue
same color as the sky
or your lovers eyes

my envy is calm
like the ocean waves
or the swift summer breeze

my envy is as pale
as the sad face
of an ill person

my envy is so strong
it could tear down mountains
And knock over house

my envy is this dark twist
that i can't control
i can't let go