take me back to the day I laid eyes on you.
so I can ask you your name and tell you I'm in love with you.
and maybe it sounds crazy but I'm going to marry you.
take me back to the first time we skipped out on class together.
so you can hold my hand longer and not leave me this time.
and ill tell you that I know it's still so soon, but I want to hold your hand for forever, through whatever, always.
take me back to the day you crawled into bed with me and held me after I had fallen asleep.
so I can wake up in the middle of the night and tell you everything I'm too afraid to tell you in the daylight.
and ill admit that I think of you every day and strangely want to see your feet bare.. and.. your body.
take me back to the night we tried to have *** but you couldn't stop thinking of her.
so I can tell you it's okay if you aren't ready, because neither am I.
and if you want to just lay here, just exist together, ill tell you that's okay too. more than okay.
take me back to the day I held your head in my lap and we talked about everything that scared us.
so I can tell you not being with you scares me the most, and my heart never settles.
and I won't admit it but ill tell you with my eyes that I want you to keep me.
take me back to the moment we touched other people and for only a second, no longer, forgot each others name.
so I can run away from his lips, and into your arms.
and maybe then your fingers won't find her cheek, and she won't realize your eyes are the darkest brown, but your touch can melt anyone like honey.
take me back to the day we promised forever.
so we can walk away.
and maybe then it'll save us the pain
of you and I.

i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
my taste in poetry has always been
more bukowski than rumi
a little too western, a little too crude

but then there's you
with poetry flowing
at the tips of your fingers
and the edges of your heart
you read poetry
as if it were the bible
making every word
sound holy and every
sentence more scripture
than art
and when you recite
it's like thunder
and ice
it's fire with
just enough passion
to burn for centuries

you're the hafiz
to my plath
and i never quite understood
your language but
i loved it any way
and i tried to speak
it but my words were
always
too western, too crude
and yours

yours like a burning candle
in the middle of winter
it's a small light
but enough to keep me warm
and the darker the night
the cooler the weather
the warmer the flame
that burns bright

you were my ferdowsi
and khyyam
and i was still somewhere
between woolf and
dickinson
their worlds made sense
to me more than
persian passions
that i always wanted
could almost taste
but never swallow
but you feasted

i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
*but it brings me one step
closer
to you.

i have days
when i need you
more than
ever before.

call me when you miss me -

you said

- call me when you miss me -

tell me
how do i tell you
that i do not miss you
i do not need you
i am happier without you

but

the comfort and the
heart of someone who
loves you
really was gold
and i miss the way
i had someone to hold
and the sound of your laugh
(the real laugh, not
the fake one you did
in public)
is sweeter than the
sound of my favorite song
and my favorite song
is always going to be
the one that sounds too good
to be true
because the last time i listened to
it
i was with you

so tell me
how do i tell you
that there's just
this longing for having
someone
who
loves you?
and it's selfish and cruel
but it would
be really nice to just
say hello
and hear the familiarity
in your voice
when everything here
is so **** foreign
and i can't speak the
language of love to them
or the language
of home.

winter break of 2016 was
the best time of my entire life
and the 9th of june
is still a wonderland in my mind
and the rest of the days
are like shattered glass and
broken minds but
it's okay sometimes because
right now
as sick as i am
as broken
as torn
it would just be nice
to say hello

- call me when you miss me -

you said

- call me when you miss me -

i don't know what that's supposed to mean
i don't know if "missing you" entails
romance part II
or starting something new
but between me and you
that's just not something i want to do
would it be too good to be true
to have someone
who didn't always feel so new
i want something old and torn
something frayed and worn
something made of the same
skin that is mine
something that
doesn't make me lose my mind
something
a lot
like
home.

- call me when you miss me -

you said

- call me when you miss me -