my math teacher has flared nostrils as extended proof
that he inhales nonsense and exhales logic
in matters of seconds
and there is a boy who aces his tests
ribcage rattling with numbers
bloodstream rushing with answers

and during math class, i am the dull girl
with the blank face
you can't furrow your brows because
the teacher will stare at you
and i'm thinking about
brilliance and my lack of it, you know
sometimes i have poetry floating
through my brain

but i'm not going to get good grades for that
there are cookie crumbs falling on my lap
and the boy is staring at me

i know your eyes are tired
your exhale sounds tired
too, here's what i want you to do
start breathing out the tears
my dear
start breathing out the tears

don't catch bullets with an
open mouth, and
a pained smile is not a smile
so stop smiling
when you're dying
inside

close your eyes
close your ears
open your heart
i know there are monsters
but listen
feel for the light

don't be surprised you'll
find it's inside you
my dear
it's inside
you

maybe words come out better on paper

it's been a while and I haven't figured out
what to say
and how exactly to say it

but maybe words would come out better
when gates are unlocked
and your heart left open

for whispers and quiet little songs
to come in

maybe if you let the words stain your skin

maybe if you stop hiding the tears
and look up at me
into my eyes

maybe when I tell you I love you
you'll believe me

a quiet kind of sadness
laying a carpet out
on the floor of your stomach,
getting settled in

when it raps on the walls,
you think,
it's your heartbeat
echoing through your body
the emptiness making it easy

when it yawns,
you feel hella tired
curling the length of you into
a ball, on the floor
never wanting to get up because
you've forgotten you're alive

alive?
it's the sadness I hear
breathing satisfied little breaths
it doesn't want to die

it sits there, calm,
having claimed that spot
at the center of your life,
sapping what's left of its worth,
calm,
while making you think ****
about yourself,
and it doesn't want to die
but you do,
I do

I am going to write you a poem that rhymes
I'm not sure how I'll get it out of me but I will
I just hope it's not as bad as an oilspill
Or that haircut you got last Christmas
The time you almost punched the glass
And I was laughing

I am going to tell you about how I dream
Of a big brown house, kids going "Mommy, Mommy"
And a border collie, and a handsome man
And you'd be living next door all alone
I'd be laughing

Okay I swear I am going to stop joking

The truth is
a) Your smile is like the candy cane
A kid would **** to ease some ache somewhere
Or like the cake the fat person is eating to
Cheer herself up (on a separate note,
The fat person is me)

b) Your voice is like ocean waves
Pulling, crashing, rushing,
Tripping; beautiful and brave
And your voice is like birdsong and ambulances
Yes, that much of a mess

c) Your company is the floater I'd grab
Before jumping off a boat
Your company is the lifesaver.
I'd get tossed by the waves while the thunder
Roars to state that life is unkind,
You're still keeping me from sinking

And d) you're the prettiest boy I've ever met
And I'd be in love with you except
You make me laugh 'til I'm crying and my vision blurs

So instead I just love you
I hope you love me too

distance in miles and daylight
is absolutely nothing, tell them that.

some people were never
even meant to speak.
even breathing the same air
every day, she's not there,
at least not to his eyes. it's
distance

distance in hearts and minds
and the important part of fingertips
that is the distance that cannot be bridged
let them know that.

but there are people
living three thousand miles apart
still keeping the other's laughter in their hearts
and every breath is a search and a sigh
and the whisper that says, 'far'
the conviction that says,
with a palm over the left breast,
'here'


even when we touch
he is looking elsewhere
but I've seen his eyes and he is marked with oceans

I don't know how to feel about you but mostly
I like how you pointed out to me
that grass looks lovely lit by approaching
headlights of gleaming silver
cars, when you're sitting on gravel and dirt
and a garden grows in hearts
of people who like to hold hands
and you told me that forget-me-nots were your favorite
but you never told me why
you said maybe if we ride rollercoasters
together you'll show me how there are stars
in the day and how leaves can shine gold
like veins and you smiled
saying, yours and mine