You're too nice,* he said. Just too sweet.
Sweet will make you sorry.

Coming home to her childhood bedroom
with the glow in the dark stars dabbed on the ceiling
Unfinished
Coming home to the broken kitchen chair that wobbles
as she sits down for dinner of toast and a pop ****
Unsatisfied
Coming home to friends who no longer feel like friends,
who no longer are friends
Unsettling
Coming home to the south side of the city
where every pothole is a metaphor
Uninspired
Coming home and tipping her head back
to keep the tears from spilling out

She is coming home and coming
*undone

Feelings—
*fickle
frustrating
fragile

Are we going to be like
the dinosaurs one day?
I hope they find my bones
next to yours.

Let sadness be your ink

A new you, I need.
Yoda, do I think I am?
Stuck, so stuck, am I.

You kissed me,
I felt it.

You left me,
I melted.

You do, I feel.
You stand and I kneel.

And when your action is no more,
when all your games are played
Here I'll be as I was before,
waiting for you-
r memory to fade.

forever going out on a limb
only to have the branch break
beneath my size six and a half feet

People make your world
Your world is a mirage of moments
Moments are what **** you

I don't know how to say what I want
because I don't yet know what it is I want to say

"I think you're really beautiful and I feel really warm when I'm around you and my tongue swells up."

I think you're really handsome and I feel strangely flushed when I'm around you and my heart swells up.

you will never ask the question I yearn to hear, this I know
but I am certain my answer would be yes
yes yes yes
yes vehemently shouted
yes breathlessly whispered
yes, just yes
over and over again

you enable me
you toy with me
you puzzle me
you frick with me, you frack with me
you scatter my thoughts
my wits
my heartstrings
but you also make me laugh
and that kind of trumps everything else

I like that you are a boy
and that I am girl
and that your hands are bigger
than mine when they slow dance

I like that you compliment me
Although I like that you
complement me more

I like that you could hurt
me if you wanted to
and I like that I trust you won't

You are a sincere tornado.
You are kinetic energy.
You are a crystal hanging heavy from my neck.
You charge in leaving my covers in a bunch and my heart in a tangle.
(And where's my ******* blanket?)

But this is not your bed to make.
It is mine.
I gave you permission to coax my ears with your talks of adventure
                                       auras
                                               and hemp.
I also gave you my popsicle -- the one I'd been saving for days
(An intended treat for myself)
I offered, you accepted.
But I still wanted so we shared.
You liked the cherry, I the lemon.

Funny how that was probably
the closest I'll ever come to
kissing you again
And ironic how there was
no joke on the stick,
like maybe all of this
isn't actually that
funny.

But we (can i say we?) laugh.
We laugh so we don't cry.
And I still run my fingers through your hair.
It is so long now.


2:24 a.m. The sun will be rising soon
And you will be with her
And all I know is
she isn't me
and
I am not her

You twist my wrists and bunch my covers,
and you my leave my heart in tangles

You call me sweet and it makes me bitter,
and I don't think I love you

But I have love for you
And I am always sad to see you,
because I am always sad to see you go

Stream of consciousness ... Go—
The best days are ahead,
I know.
I think?
I hope.
But I want to be happy now.
And these highs and lows
are neither high nor low.
Everything is sustained by
nothing more than a monotone
heart rate while inside a voice cries
"static is suicide."

And I don't know if I am relieved
or offended that you didn't
think I was a cheerleader.
And I don't know why it even matters.
And my best friend let me down,
but I don't want to talk about it.
And how can someone get to know
me when I don't yet know myself?
And mom and dad,
there has been no drought. Consistently watered, my deeply rooted insecurities have only grown.
And most days I just want to go home, yet that very thought
is what drives me mad.

Give me something that
gets me out of bed.
I don't care if it cools my lungs
or burns my throat, just give it to me.
My hands are greedy,
my heart overeager.
Because even though Jack Kerouac
said that it is dreams that unite
all humans beings
and although I melt at that
beauty of that thought,
I want to be kissed in this life.
I want to be kissed today.
I wanted to be kissed yesterday.
How do you be an active participant
in your fate yet still let Destiny
do it's thing?

I don't want to live in cottony
allusions that are spun from
slumber and made into the
burdening burgundy sweater
I must put on to go outside.
My dreams don't release me—
they make me sad and sentimental.

Give me a life worth dreaming about.
A life to inspire dreams—
not a life lived with eyelids shut.

I melt under the pressure of having to keep my cool
But I don't really have any cool to keep
While you, "you always look so cool."

Loving you was like falling asleep on a car ride home —
incomplete and much too brief.
I'm ****** I have to get up now.
When did I even fall asleep?
You only know it happened because you can't remember the in-between.

My hear(t),
lik(e) pots a(n)d pa(n)s on a suburban street at m(i)d(n)ight,
quiv(e)rs up into my collarbon(e).

(I)t is heavy with the wei(ght) of carrying you into the new year.

That ki(s)s, that kiss of d(e)ath, dies a slow and (ve)xed death.
E(n)ough to paralyze but not ****.

My (s)k(i)n still tingles where the fuzz of your face ta(x)ied my cheek.
Screaming sensation,
— a surrendering of sorts.

The sequin top loses it's beading and the paper hat gets bent,
But like my (f)avor(i)te every season sweater,
I'll ne(ve)r outgrow you.
Even i(f) I d(o) have to hold my breath to keep yo(u) in,
you a(r)e (th)e colo(r)s I s(ee) when I close my eyes.

You wan(t)ed and you got.
And I still (w)ant what I didn't get.

Maybe this (o)ne. Maybe the next (one).

Someday I'd like to know you in all seasons.

to know your nose red and raw in winter,
to trick you and treat you in fall,
to dance with you at a wedding in springtime.

If this were love, it would be a summer love.
But for us, there will be no Indian summer.
The full corn moon is rising fast.

Someday, I'd like to know you in all seasons.

Confident dreams of a love-lettered tomorrow
by one with an over eager heart.
"Get lost. Find everything."

The clutch of her heart mirrored the clutch of his stick
as the night was lost eighty miles too fast.
"Get lost. Find everything."

The smell of lavender, swollen lips, hands and limbs.
A comfortable, misleading sleep.
"Get lost. Find everything."

Who knew lavender could be so cruel?
Icarus burned by the sun, Zelda by Scott.

A thrill? Perhaps. As graceful as a goodbye can be.
Thank you for the experience.
**Lose him. Find yourself.