almost every **** day
i halt words that are about to spill from my throat,
i hiccup over sentences that i can't bear to speak.
three letter words can serve as a trigger
that launches a full fledged attack on my nerves,
which in turn launches me out into the street.
and every time my heel hits the pavement
all i can hear is "get out. get out. get out."
all i know is that i need to get out.
and i need to get out fast.

but almost every **** day
i spit out terms of endearment
for all of those who
i hold so dangerously high.
i almost collapse under their weight
when that short, seemingly insignificant word
almost sneaks past my lips.
the soles of my sneakers
can barely hold me aloft
when i run with such panicked purpose,
hearing nothing but
"how could i almost- how could i almost-
how could i almost say-"
and knowing that
indeed, i almost said it.

and almost every **** day
i lash out at the memories
that i've cut into jigsaw pieces,
trying to throttle the
panic-prone girl i've grown from
into screaming the word
so loud her voice cracks
and her throat bleeds.
but she knows the weight
that a three lettered word can hold.
she will preserve a seat
within the limits of her vocabulary
for what she defines as
'safety, comfort, security'
even though i define it to mean
'panic. go. get out. escape.'

and almost every **** day
i utter a word to show my loved ones
how much i want to hold them,
to protect them and take
both attack and blame head on for them,
how much i want to hurt for them.
i stare into the eyes
of my best friends
and i almost say it,
i almost call them
'kid'

Long ago I learned not to think of my poems as wasted
Even if I bleed a thousand of them for the very same heart
That never bothers to look my way.
They are not wasted, on you, on anybody.
If I write you fifty and you write me one,
If I write hundreds to explain you and you never need to explain me,
I have still not wasted a single line.
That is not what I am about.
These poems are about people, not for them.
When they are seen and loved by the people they sing to,
I glow, it's true.
But if they remain caked in dust, unopened and silent like love letters never posted,
They will lose none of their radiance, tucked away.
They are not for you:
They are about you,
But these poems
Are for me.

I was starting to catch feelings
Turns out you weren't right for me
Moving on without you
I felt connected now we are distant
Overtime my feelings fade I craved her to be around
The days off missing you are over
The days of reaching out and being lead on end
Start new not saving a place for you in my heart
You go away I wish you the best
I want and wish for better I deserve love things feel right and natural

Reading to be entertained
Another new comic to the collection
Working to get ahead become a boss
Write to express my feelings
Music to stimule the mind
The gym to tune up the body
Drawing to create my logo
My symbol of rebellion

Sometimes I make myself angry at you.
Hurt
That you aren't around.
Not because I enjoy being angry and hurt,
Not because you deserve it,
Not because anything at all has gone wrong,
But simply because
Missing you as much as I miss you on some nights
[most nights]
Has no reason,
No cause,
No cure,
No trigger or relief.
And if I'm going to feel it
My mind wants something to blame.
It is too much,
Too much love,
To simply miss you
And feel the exquisitely fragmenting pain of that.
It is much easier to handle feeling something I've felt before,
Something that can be fought,
Something that can be dealt with,
Something that has a start,
And hence,
An end.
My hurt, my anger...all of it...
Even my fear is a lie.
Because the truth is
Missing you
Has no end,
No edge,
No closure,
No border.
No creation
And no ultimatum.
If I bog myself down in petty fear and pain and enmity
If I fog up my mind and heart with those silly distractions
The love
Cannot leak through and terrify me
With its immeasurable, ceaseless enormity.
If I just stay on the surface,
I can't drown in what is really happening:
My love deepens by the second,
And I am at sea
With no land in sight.
I miss you with my skin and the marrow of my bones,
With my fingertips and in my veins.

I miss you more every moment.

It's been increasing since the day you left.
When you came back,
It only picked up.
I miss you in a way that absolutely stuns me with fear
And with awe.

I am not ready to be the vessel for that kind of feeling
That kind of love.

And so sometimes, when you're not around and I wish you were,
I make myself angry with you,
Hurt,
Afraid to lose you.
I engineer insecurities in my head.
Because the sheer truth of knowing that you love me
And missing you this much anyway
Is too immense
And too agonizing
To face.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
I know that I should be gone longer
Every time I miss you now
I wait, long as my heart allows.

I want your love, I crave it so
I know that I should let you grow
And let you go
Let you be the one who says hello,
And have faith you'll return, but even so
I never know,
And by the hour my soul gets low,
And the seconds tick my heart to woe,
I wish I could be calm, but no.

If I could, I'd make you wait,
I'd let you wonder, show up late.
I'd let you miss me for a while
I'd let you long to see my smile,
But
See,
I'm too afraid that I
Don't mean enough to say goodbye
And hope that you'd say "Oh, don't leave."
If I were gone, love, would you grieve?
I just don't know, and so I fold
And keep your love close, grab ahold,
I'm scared I'll lose you by staying near,
Drive you crazy with my fear.
But I fear as much if I step back,
That you won't feel a space, a lack,
Without me there to love you so,
And so I never let it go.
I'm sorry I've not got it right,
A few more months and I just might.
You're important, see, and I love you,
So please forgive the things I do:

Absence makes the heart grow fonder,
I wish my feeble heart was stronger.
But when I think of hearing your perfect voice,
I know there isn't any choice.

I don't tell you very often, but you're a really inspiring person,
And you're one of the people
(if not the person)
I admire most in the world.
You mean a lot more to me than I ever tell you.
We don't get into feelings a lot in person, I guess. It's just not part of our dynamic.
We talk about ideas and thoughts, but not necessarily how we feel about each other.

Often times before I go to sleep I think of you and miss you and want to cry a little because I think
We got lost for too long during our relationship, and I never actually got to tell you
That I love you
In a really special way that I don't think I'll ever love anyone else.
You've probably influenced my beliefs and the way I think more than anyone else,
And I'm really grateful for it,
Because no matter where we are in relation to each other, I always have a really strong connection to you,
Because a little bit of you is a part of me.

I really really hope you do live to be a hundred, or better a hundred and ten, like you said.
Don't start thinking like you're old- you're only as old as you feel.
I like to see you as eternal,
Like a tall tree that has seen every storm and sunny day,
That's always comfortingly there to support you or shelter you as the weather requires.
I know you're not, but I like to see you that way.
Even though I've seen your flaws and weaknesses as I've gotten older,
In my heart you always remain the person
Whose every word I followed without question out on the rocks or in the woods
Because I knew you'd keep me safe.
I guess I really want you to know that, because I've said a lot of things,
But never that you're more important to me than you think you are,
Or that I respect you a lot more than I let on,
Or that sometimes when I'm tired and my day has ****** I want a hug from you so much that I could cry.
In a weird way, you might be the person I'm closest to intellectually and spiritually and philosophically.
I just want you to know that that trust you had from me as a child
Isn't gone at all,
And neither is how much I love you.
I hope I meet many people in my life as extraordinary as you, but I sort of doubt I will.
Even though you have qualities I disagree with,
And you make mistakes,
The way you live your life is something I strive for,
And something I admire.
Every little girl's dad is their hero,
And my childhood sort of prevented me from telling you
That you're mine.