i.

i used to only write sad poems.

ii.

you see,
i am a cynic,
a cemetery,
a holocaust,
a chaotic, distant, lost girl
buried in her own
self-destruction.

but with you
i am different.

i want to wake up,
keep my promises,
make up for lost time,
spill blood and ink,
try again,
live

for you.

iii.

you walk me home
and the skies blush
pink cloud summers
mid-December.

we part and i marvel
at the sepia tint
of backyard roses
blurring my lenses.

you came in
like the missing palette color
i never knew
i needed
my skies painted with.

iv.

now, you are all the love poems
i didn't know i could write.

and every metaphor i create
is just a lengthier version of
'i love you'

i really do.

no matter how much
water i pour over my cracking hands

i can't wash away the feelings
of when you were here.

can't wash away all the memories we ever shared.
no matter how much i want to.

the scent of your skin
burns through my nose no matter how hard i try to
extinguish it.

the sound of your laughter
rings through my head despite
the crowd around me.

the view of you from behind
forever punctures my heart
even though i've long ago taken out the dagger.

i stand at the mirror
and try
to forget it all.

wash
wash away,
please.

you aren't him
no one will ever be.
if i'm being honest,
he isn't even him anymore.

because
the first boy I ever loved
I loved when we were 8
playing on the playground
the first heartbreak I had
I had when I was 10
two years went too fast

he grew into someone I no longer recognized
all harsh words
and scrutiny

I'm not me anymore
No longer can I look in the mirror
and say I see the 9 year old in love
with a boy who would still make
her hurt today.

you aren't him
which I am thankful for
I don't think my heart,
even 10 years later,
could handle another him

the way you make me feel
reminds of him
all sarcasm
and witt

but now the bite marks
that I'm trying to convince
myself are Love Bites
are still sore.

and yes,
I know I'm looking for validation
in the wrong places.
but so far it's all I can get

your hands  rough on my skin
your words rough on my ears

I'm beginning to think
the two of you

are more alike
thank I thought.