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 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
all you are
 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
it's the way you call me
darling
and the way you kiss my lips;
your head resting on my shoulder,
the gentle swaying of your hips.
it's the days you text
"good morning";
it's the way you drink your tea,
it is in your awful driving
and the way you smile at me.
it's the way you make me laugh
and the birthday card you sent,
how your perfume always lingers,
how you softly touch my hand.
it is that you burn your fishsticks,
that you curse the rain outside,
it is that you named your cactus
and the way you say "good night".
it is in the little moments,
in those little things you do;
and I know, without a doubt,
that I can't stop
loving
you.
 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
happier days
 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
ever since we started
doing whatever this is,
I have been singing
in the kitchen,
I have been playing
happy songs too loudly,
I have been getting
out of bed with a smile.
your touch is electrifying
and my god, how I miss you
whenever you're not around.
I can't stand being away from you,
I hate not kissing you
and all the time not spent
in the proximity of your lips
is wasted.
 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
the first time
 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
i believe love is
in the simple things,
the routine of our lives,
the things we do everyday
and that have become so ordinary,
we no longer notice them.
tell me, how many nights
do you see the stars and wish
you could count them?
when did you last feel the rain?
and when you say their name,
how often do you try to taste it
in your mouth?
love happens on the days
you are aware of beauty.
love happens when she looks at you
for a few minutes and kisses you,
slowly, carefully,
as if it could break her heart,
as if she'd been waiting all her life,
as if it was the first time.
 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
until the end
 Nov 2013 Currin
ASB
not all problems can be overcome,
not even in love, not even
with love
like ours, but

we were beautiful
(though always temporary),
we were infinite
in our limited space.
 Nov 2013 Currin
Wilted Seaweed
I remember walking home from school with you in eighth grade
being silly and naive as always
I told you I liked that necklace you wore
Not thinking much of anything
and you gave it to me
It smelled a little like grapes
which made me giggle
and a lot like you
which made me smile
I tried to return it
because it wasn't really mine
but you insisted I keep it
and thank God you did

I wore it every day
until we broke up
I thought of burning it
or simply throwing it away
But every time I tried
I couldn't bring myself to do it
So I shoved it in a blue box
hidden under my dresser
forgot it existed
forgot you existed.

I hadn't seen you in a year
when you told me you missed me
I missed you too.
I hadn't seen you in a year
when you told me you still loved me
I still love you too

I blew the dust off that blue box
picked up that simple beaded necklace
a little wooden turtle
it still smelled like grapes
and you

Three and a half years later
we talk on the phone for hours before going to sleep
I fiddle with that necklace while we talk
while I listen to your laugh
your stories
your voice
because it's all I have of you to hold
It doesn't smell like you anymore
because I wear it every single day
thats okay
because it reminds me
of everything we've been
of everything we will be
just because
this little turtle necklace
reminds me
how much I love you
and
how much
you love me.
do not read
my poems
if you will not
read me.

i jumped
from a bridge
and woke up
in the hospital.
apparently
the "DNR"
i wrote
in marker
on my chest
had washed away.
or maybe
they had washed
it away.
i left a note
and it said
"do not read"
as if
anyone
could ever
resist such
an invitation.
and all i wrote
inside was:
"what did
i tell you?"

["i love you."
that is what
*i told you.]
i cried on my way to school today.
and i will cry again.
about teej.
about life.
about love.
about sadness.
about pain.
about the world.
i will cry again.
and i will bite down
on my index and middle fingers
and pretend they're a gun.
and the moment will pass.
and i will cry again.
and i will laugh again.
and i will feel happiness again.
and i will live again.

**and i will cry again.
last spring,
in firenze,
i met a girl -
we'll call her julia
(because that's her name) -
this one strange night
behind a secret bakery
that's open at midnight.
i was standing
on a small street
in italy
surrounded
by drunken chaos,
the smell of pastries,
and beauty.
how will i ever
forget her?
why would i ever
even try?
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