he won't write you poetry like neruda or bukowski. he won't ink your name underneath his skin nor will he cut his hair shorter for your mom. he won't stay up with you to read jane austen and hemingway. sometimes all you'll hear from his end of the line is snoring and you'll know he has fallen asleep. again. he won't take you to a romantic dinner every other night. he won't surprise you with a picnic basket on a tuesday afternoon to whisk you away to a spontaneous date on the beach. his hand will sweat sometimes. he will smell like cigarettes and the inside of a Starbucks. he will chew his food loudly and eat with his leg up. he will wake you up in the middle of the night just to tell you about a dream that woke him up. he will do this because he's afraid he'll forget in the morning. he will not get along with some of your friends, your dad will ask you "are you sure?" and your little brother will hate him. he will have acne and blackheads. he won't be around everytime you need him. he won't magically appear just in time to catch after you've tripped down the stairs.

he won't be the guy you keep reading in novels about. he won't be the mysterious, poetry-writing, guitar-strumming, *****-dropping British guy you keep wishing you'd finally meet.

surprisingly, despite of all of this, you will fall for him anyway. because even though you wanted a love story similar to those you found printed in pages, you will realize that they end after a dramatic moment in the airport, or a long romantic make-out session under the pouring rain, or after the one major problem is resolved.

you will realize that nothing comes after for them. what happens after the romantic colors of sunset fade and the darkness takes over?

you will realize that your own story is way better. because even though he talks too loud in libraries and hogs the blanket, he stays. he is there beside you at 2am when you suddenly wake up from a nightmare. you can feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your waist. you can hear him whisper "i love you" and it will be dripping with honesty. and that is more than any fictional poetry-writing, guitar-strumming, *****-dropping British guy can ever do.

i.
i've nothing to of-
fer you but senseless rhymes and
these stupid haikus

ii.
i am but crazy
your footsteps like melodies
i can't put words to

iii.
i try to write a-
about you and your quirks but i
can't find the right words

iv.
you deserve more than
poems carved on old trees and
these stupid haikus

i fell in love
with the distance
between us

i fell in love
with the timing
and how it's always off

i fell in love
with the hope
that these walls
have nowhere to go
but down
and he'll be on the
other side, waiting

i fell in love
with the thought of
possibly
hopefully
falling in a kind of love
that overcomes
transatlantic flights
and time zones

thank you to
the boy in the
bus who gave
me his seat

to be honest
you looked like
someone I
should meet

but you got
off too early
i can only watch
as you crossed
the street

and what should
you leave behind
but your number on
a little sheet

"i am happy."

repeat 15 times.

repeat until your
throat hurts from
screaming it over
the sound of the
opposition fighting
for control over
your mind.

repeat 15 times more.

repeat until it
doesn't make sense
anymore.

heart breaker struts around the room
his half-filled drink in hand leaving a trail
he laughs & says “whoever slips, it’s not my fault, okay?”

heart breaker stops in front of me
points a finger and says “you look pretty.”
with uneven eyeliner wings, i ask, “really?”

heart breaker pulls me up for a dance
my knees wobbled as i followed him around
i should have bolted when i had the chance

heart breaker with eyes that rival the night sky
holds me close, his hand at the bottom of my spine
i should escape. i’m running out of time.

heart broken is what i should be when he disappeared at midnight
but it’s no big deal. i’ll be okay. i’ll be fine.
this is exactly what i was looking for; a good time.

you are the kind of beautiful
that makes people fall under
the crazy delusion that love
at first sight is real

you are the kind of beautiful
that can get away with breaking
and entering a heart protected
with barbed wires and retina scanners

you are the kind of beautiful
that is so painful to grasp and
hold in both of my hands because
i will want to set you free

you are the kind of beautiful
that takes me aback every time
i wake up in the morning and
see you, looking at me like
i’m that kind of beautiful too

I never really believed in
love at first sight and i’m
not going to start now
but when I saw you yesterday
i had to ask myself,
"if this isn’t love yet, then
*******, I can’t wait to love."

if you are The One
and you are reading this;

my heart is hurting

it's not your fault
(indirectly)

it is longing for you
wondering where you are
hoping you didn't make
a wrong turn along the way

don't miss me
i'm easy to spot, I guess

my heart's on my hands
waiting for you to put
it back inside my chest

cold fingers are too numb
i try to hold on but it’s gone

a small dot in the horizon
i can only run for so long

sore throat from screaming
but you’re not listening

you say you want to change
but nothing’s the same

tell me, be honest with me
stop trying to convince me

i have no need for the extra
space in my bed ?

but i also have no need for
people who mess with my head

i.
the little flickers of light
just before it dies

ii.
words with the same spelling
but never rhymed

iii.
unfinished letters
written in red ink

iv.
vigorously shaken polaroids
that remain blurry

v.
cut-open wrists and words
flowing in veins

vi.
the intense heart
just before it rains

just rip my heart
out of my chest
with your bare hands
and long fingers

throw it out
to the sea

burn it
to ashes

leave it to
gather dust

because that’s
your thing,
right?
that’s what
you do?

and i don’t
want to
change you

There is nothing fair about the 6, 679 miles between us.

There is nothing fair about you being so far away from me.

There is nothing fair about the possibility that we might never see each other again.

There is nothing fair about the expensive plane tickets we're going to have to buy when other people just have to open the front door in the morning to see the love of their life holding up a bag of bagels and coffee.

There is nothing fair about not being able to say good night at the same time.

There is nothing fair about falling in love with someone who's about to leave in three months.

There is nothing fair about being given only three months with each other.

When you meet the other half of your soul, when you finally put the two pieces together, it should be illegal to ask one of them to move to another continent.

Because there is nothing fair about a soul inhabiting two bodies, when the two bodies are 6, 679 ******* miles apart.

you're in my lungs
you're under my skin

you're in places
you're not supposed to be in

you flow through my veins
you hang on the cobwebs in my heart

you're everywhere
and yet you're always so far

i’m sorry but i can’t
offer you anything.
not even my 5am’s because
they are already taken
by another guy who doesn't
even know he has them.

i don’t want to throw
you a bone because you’ll
keep asking for more and
i don’t want to have to
throw you my own spine
(i need it
every time he’s
around)

the bags under my eyes
are never going to be
your fault, nor will
the wishes on stray hairs
be about you

it’s not you
it’s me
it’s him

do not wait for the apple
to fall down, do not climb
the **** tree to pick the
apple on your own.

the tree isn't yours.

it is only 5 am
i’ve just woken up
my head still hurts
the room is still spinning

my eyes are out of focus
my throat is dry

it’s taking a little time
to get settled but it will be
6 am soon
and then 7 then 8
then 9

the day is only starting.
the sun is just rising.

i want to go back to sleep
and wake up again to the
sun setting.

i.
remember this, love:
you will always be my first.
but that’s all you are.

ii.
your eyes were made of coal
your skin smelled like forest fires
but there was no spark.

iii.
you loved like the moon;
brightest in the darkest night,
but gone by daylight.

iv.
babe, i could have sworn
our hands fit perfectly well.
were you wearing gloves?

v.
i don’t remember
the first song we listened to.
i remember you.

vi.
we will meet again
when we’re kinder and wiser,
one day, hopefully.

a distant memory,
a dream forgotten 5 minutes after waking up
but not entirely

fragments of an old
black and white movie

try to remember the first line
or the last scene

but they’re out of reach;
a word on the tip of your tongue
that never rolls off

remind myself

it happened
it happened
it happened

did it really?

before we say goodbye,
there’s something you should know.

i don’t know what it is yet,
so promise me you’ll find it
once you go.

the truth is,
I will still hold
your hands even
after they become
wrinkly from
swimming in the
ocean for too
long.