and it took me a long time
to finally realize:

the world is full of color
and you were just a dark blue
who was scared to let my yellow
turn you green at the corners

i just really really really want to talk to you
but
the words i want to say are not the ones you want to hear

you see, when they asked me to describe love, to describe you, i thought about writing about how i was lost until i found you and how you were my water in the drought. but if i wrote about those, i would have been lying.
the thing is, darling, i was not looking for you.
i did not climb the tallest mountain and reach out for you at the top with scraped fingers and knees. i did not plunge into deep waters and risk drowning just to catch a glimpse at the beauty you were. you and i, this love, was not planned.
so when they asked me to describe this, to describe us,
i did not write about how you saved me.
instead i wrote about how i was full, how i was full before i even met you. i wrote about how i thought there was no room for anything else, but you came along and i began to pour out at the sides, making a puddle of joy on the kitchen floor.
i wrote about how you never asked me to climb a mountain for you, but rather we sat in the car and glanced at it. and then later, we drove to the shore and barely touched our toes to the sea.
you see, when they asked me to describe love, to describe you, i thought about writing about how you changed me. instead i wrote about how you loved me the way i was, and how i loved you even when i thought i did not need to.

I know that you only think of me as a friend, but there is just something about the way you act around me. the way your eyes light up like the sunlight streams through my curtains in the early morning. the way those very eyes look at me like you're trying to solve a puzzle and you can’t quite get the pieces to fit, but you force them to anyways. there is just something about the way you say my name, like the way a little kid learns a new word and finds himself saying it all throughout the day. the way you talk to me, and the way you know not to talk, but to just be there when the anxious thoughts creep in like a heavy fog during the night. I know that you only think of me as a friend, but there is just something about the way you make me feel. almost like you want to spend the rest of your mornings, days, and nights only saying my name, over and over and over.

i wonder if years from now
i’ll see something and have it still
remind me of you

maybe it will be an album cover
of a band we listened to in the car
instead of talking

or it could even be a zucchini
i wonder if you will still hate those
years from now

i’m trying, i’m trying, i’m trying
to let you go
but i didn’t mean to fall in love with you
and i hope you have it in your heart
to forgive me
for doing that

maybe things will be easier
once you leave,
but oh how I wonder
if in a few years from now
i will be able to look at the trees

and not be reminded of you.

loving someone that you cannot have
is one of life’s most tragic things

because when you drive me home
and i listen to you ramble about
your passions and dreams
i stay quiet because i am afraid
that if i open my mouth
“i love you” will fly out
and i will not have the chance
to reach out, grab it,
and put it back away,
hidden,
where it belongs.

you will live your life and i, mine.
but in my dreams, awake or asleep,
we will be together, side by side,
living.

sometimes
i feel like everything
i’m struggling with
is spiraling around me in circles

and the chaos of it all
overwhelmes me to the point
where it hurts to get out of bed
and my mom continues to ask what’s wrong
and my only response is that
i’m tired

i’m tired of not being in control
and i am tired of the solutions
being so incredibly close
yet when i reach out to grab one
it is just out of reach

i am tired of constantly being a mess
and i just want

r e s t .

there is one thing that I know for sure
and it is this:
my hands will never stop reaching for you even though I know full well that they will never touch you

can you teach me how to let go?

sometimes i pretend
as i am looking in a mirror that i am meeting myself for the very first time

i notice the way that
my hair waves as it falls down my shoulders
and curls around my face
it looks like the vines that grow up and down
the sides of my house
the vines that i love

and i take note of the
little scars dotted around my face from when my fingers
just couldn’t keep themselves away
i look at them now
and realize that they look like little mountains
and constellations
two things that are known for their beauty

i look at my eyes, my eyebrows, my nose that has been told
that it is too big,
my arms and my elbows,
my stomach and my thighs, all the way down to my toes
and i remember:
there is beauty in the unique

and so i stick my hand out to shake
and i say,
hello, it is nice to meet you. you look beautiful today and i love you.

and my hand grasps it and says back,
hello, it is nice to meet you. you look beautiful today, and i think i could learn to love you too.

i often humor myself
with the idea of us

the idea that
someone as stubborn as you
could love
someone as carefree as me

i know that it is silly
you aren’t the type
to shut off your brain
and follow your heart

but here i sit,
wondering
wondering
wondering

is the idea of us actually silly at all?

how tragic that i’ll never get to know

this is the version of us that i dream of when it is two a.m. and the stars look like they’re dancing across the sky:

we are in Italy, we are laughing, and it is warm. you point out a piece we studied years ago, and i smile because it was always one of my favorites. we talk about it over dinner and time passes slowly. i tell you that you are my whole world. you tell me what you know about earth’s rotation and how if the world revolved around anything other than the sun, the universe would be a mess. i laugh and you hold my hand and kiss me. my lips respond back to the rhythm of a song that i used to know. we are happy, and it is good. we walk home and wonder what it would feel like to dance on top of the sun.

this is the version of us that i think of when the sun is high in the sky and the clouds sing songs across the blue:

we go separate ways like we were always meant to. you come home at christmas and we talk over bitter tea. you tell me that when she talks it is like hearing a language you never learned but somehow know. i tell you that he makes me feel like summer and my favorite song. things are okay and things are good. i don’t think about what we could’ve been, but rather i cherish how close we still are even years later.

because at the end of the day,
dreams are just dreams, the earth will always revolve around the sun, and things are exactly how they were always meant to be.