I heard in a song
that you’re only
as good as your
last mistake.

And I’ve never been
more thankful for
humans ability
to make millions.

So you’ll never
be my last,
because I’m better
than that.

Burning toast
and eating it anyway.

Buying shampoo
when I actually
needed conditioner.

Showing up late
to a meeting.

Missing the first
day of class.

Studying for an exam
two hours before it starts.

Not turning in an
assignment because
I just simply didn’t
want to do it.

Not leaving my pajamas or
bed when there’s
so much to do.

Apologizing when they
bumped into me.

Lying to people
who care, I’m okay.

Not locking my door.

Walking alone at night.

I’d rather be
defined by all
of these things
than you.

Initial reaction: open.
I’d do anything
to help you navigate
out of yourself.
Wrap you up, consume you, carry you
and your demons inside of me
until you are new again.
In that instant
squeezing so tight, in hopes
of putting all your pieces back together.
But that would take millions
of moments and we were only given one.

Processing reaction: closing.
Resorting to all I’ve ever known
helplessly watching from inside
locking myself behind the walls I build
to protect myself from harm, selfish.
Not wanting to lose what I’ve worked
so hard to construct.

Final reaction: I will not set
fire to myself
to keep you warm
but I will help you
find your own.

The first in hale,
deep as the waters
that are now absorbing me.
Expanding my lungs
making room for the breeze
carrying with it opportunities.
Tingling my nostrils
that are like the canals
connecting to newborn perspectives.

A balloon ready to burst,  
the clock stops ticking
I hold in this wave of awareness.
As still as the bridges I intend to cross
in that moment
I forget myself
and locate who I am,
simultaneously.

Exhaling all the storm clouds
that were filling my brain,
creating a galaxy of possibilities.
My shoulders releasing the tension
excited to take on new weights.
Repetitive in this breath
for the first time feeling
alive.

We were born
beating to different drums.
But it was more than that,
you always marched
to the rhythm
of your own song.
Eventually we stopped
trying to march
side-by-side.
We both composed
our own melodies,
unable to distinguish
the beat of one another’s drum.
Until I can only hear
my own harmony and
realize you stopped hitting
your drum all together.
I have no gifts to give,
I can only stand beside you
and beat our old tune
waiting for you to find your rhythm
and begin to beat again.

In one gesture,
a simple motion
you reaching for me,
a millisecond.
Everything I was
fighting to hold in,
came pouring out.
Each cracked piece
of me broke apart,
all I was looking
for was found
in that moment
and lost again
as soon as it was over.

Somehow you’re always  
everything I need
and nothing that I want.
At least I know
I’m not the only one
asking about you.

If just your fingertips
can rattle my bones,
imagine what your
whole body could do.

I’ll just continue not to notice
this power you have over me,  
letting it break down into pieces
so I can rebuild not to need you,
only want you. I won’t let you win, this time.

It’s been 203 days
since I’ve had Dr. Pepper
with your lemon in it.

The first weeks
I had to hesitate at sit-downs.
Now I’ve upgraded to the
permanent taste of Cherry Pepsi
with a slice of independence.

I hope you still ask for
a water with a lime
instead of lemon.

And I hope when
they still bring you
lemon water you feel
my absence, and it
stays with you
when you leave our booth                                          
because I know you still sit there                  
pretending I never did.                                                   

Without a place
for your lemon slice,
you have to grit and bear.      
How does it feel.

I hope that acidic taste
stains your mouth
and reminds you of me.

Similar to a wave in the sea,
I cannot be restrained.
Rising up after falling
again and again.
Each time stronger,
crashing down harder
than before.
Resembling the messages sent in bottles,
rippling waves inscribed with purpose.
Drowning my anchors
in the deepness of the water.
Destroying what destroys me,
refusing to stop
kissing the shore line
even after being pushed away.