The first time you kissed me,
you kissed me so hard I assumed my lips would stay stinging with the taste of beer and my best friends lip gloss for the rest of my life

Your hands fearlessly roamed to innocent parts of me, leaving all the land mines I had buried earlier to erupt beneath my skin,
The aftershock kept me shaking for months.

I was dizzy, the scent of your cologne was making my head too heavy
So I rested it on your naked chest and listened to your heart beat and your heavy breath

Your eyes burned into mine when you looked up at me
But they weren't oceans for me to drown in, they were ******* galaxies for me to get lost in

I thought these side effects of you would last forever
But now I'm laying in bed and the clock says 2:14 and I feel nothing
Everything you made me feel was gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

My lips aren't stinging
I am not shaking  
I'm no longer dizzy
My ears aren't echoing with the symphony of your heartbeat and heavy breath
My eyes aren't burning

Oh god please come back

This year, I will wake up everyday with a smile,
I will not give up on myself.
I will not stay up until 3am worrying; it would be a waste of time.
This year, I will not kiss boys who have no intention of knowing my heart; I am worth more than that.
This year, there will still be nights where I will want nothing but to tear apart my own skin, but I won't; I am smarter than that.
This year, I won't be afraid to look in the mirror, I won't hide from myself, or anyone; I am braver than that.
This year, I will learn to love the legs that carry me, the cells, scars, lungs and heart that create me, and I will learn to love myself and the sky I am under.

I don't know how many seconds are in an hour
And I don't know why the leaves on tall trees turn downwards before it rains
And I still don't know how to add integers
But I do know that life is magical
And smiles are made of fairy dust
And kisses are made of sugar
And that there is noting more beautiful than getting back up
No matter how many times you've been knocked down.
(-j.a)

I haven't written since you left,
This is my fifth attempt to write something poetic.
Unfortunately, you stole my metaphors from the tip of my tongue
Left my onomatopoeias stinging on my lips
I must have left my similes in your hair
and on your neck where my lips touched
This is my fifth try
but it's still not poetic.
-(j.a)