This is not a love poem
I do not love you
Although I know I could
This is not a love poem
This is not a questioning
But a way of saying
I care more than I let on
A way of confessing
I think about you
More than I wish I did
I wish I could hate you
It would be much easier that way
I could write about it
And move the **** on
But I am stuck
Aware of the time I am wasting
By contemplating it all
By thinking too deeply
I can guarantee you
This is not a love poem
If it was
I would speak about the light in your eyes
How your smile
Is one of the brightest things I have ever seen
Your personality
One of the most addicting
If this was a love poem
I would tell you how much I want to kiss you
I would outline your lips with metaphor
Compare your tongue to honey
Write your body into a sonnet
And tell you how badly I crave it
I would tell you
How much
I long to be with you
How I want to waste
All of my moments with you
I would tell you
Everything I wish we could do
But this is not a love poem
So instead
I will tell you of how badly I want to slap you
Tell you that I hate you
That I want absolutely nothing to do with you
But the problem is
None of that is true
I could very well
Write you a love poem
But I don't think it would do much
I still don't think it would be enough
To make you have enough time for me
And the thing is
You are far too busy
For a girl who has all of the time in the world
She will never admit she's been waiting
But is a ticking clock in disguise
So much time has already been spent counting
All of the seconds
Each minute
Every hour
Days are milestones
Time is limited
It is better spent together
And I would much rather
Be alone with you
But this
Is not a love poem
I cannot incite beauty in something inconsistent
There is no romance
Only disappointment
And let downs
They are easy enough
To get used to
Do not ask me why I have trust issues
Ask everyone who has ever left
My hands do not touch without prints
Without leaving some sort of permanence
They say stay
Don't go
I want so badly
To push you away
But stay
Don't go
Because the way I think of you is a love poem
The way I speak about you is a love poem
The way that I talk to you is a love poem
The way that I can't get you off of my mind and out of my head is a love poem
The way I claim to hate you, avoid you, and pretend to despise you is a stupid ******* love poem
You are the love poem I cannot stop writing
This is a ******* love poem
This is my surrender
So please stay,
Don't go.

I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway
my impulsivity often overpowers my conscience
yet I am almost always fully aware
of the decisions I make
and their consequences
I am not exactly mentally stable
but I am sane enough
to know right from wrong
yesterday from today
love from lust
although sometimes I mix them up
I have a tendency to lunge at any pair of arms that open for me
my mind and body often disagree
my body saying yes to eager hands
my mind saying no
constantly looking towards my heart
thinking how stupid one must be
to fall repeatedly
get hurt every single time
and still manage to do the same
over
and over
again
I wonder
how many times I will have to hit the ground
in order to learn to stop falling face first?
I often say things
that should be left unsaid
I often do things
that should not be done
sleep in beds unfamiliar
make believe love to strangers
get to know people who will not remember me tomorrow
I am gone as quickly as the hangover
I can be washed off the tongue
just as quickly as the liquor
I often believe I am capable of inciting change
I kiss temporary lips with permanence
hoping that I can train them to stay
I love temporary people with permanence
hoping that I can train them not to leave
and when they do
I claim to have seen it coming
I am incapable of forgetting
a scrapbook memory of skin and heartbeat
of touch and moments
I know not to look directly into eyes
for they can be blinding
and I still
do it anyway
I know of the risks that shouldn't be taken
well aware of their consequences
and I still
take them anyway
you could say
it is my own fault
for the way that things continue to turn out
but I can make no promise of apology
instead
I will live momentarily
**** up intentionally
love recklessly
fall unguarded
break enough times to learn how to put myself back together
crash into concrete enough times to learn how to shift a crooked smile
into something worth seeing
I have been told that a life lived in fear
is hardly a life lived at all
so I intend to live every second
like it is the last one I will have
I will write each night as it happens
narrate my own stories
and hope they turn out okay
I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway.

I fell in love with the idea of you
The thought of who you might be
How your hands might touch me
How your lips might feel against my skin
The idea of you loved me
Patiently
And kindly
Never selfish
Only selfless
The idea of you knew how to listen
I poured myself empty every time
And still managed to feel whole afterwards
Did not need a bottle to fill me
I was drunk enough as is
The idea of you gave me all there was to give
No need to ask for anything
No need to beg
Or wait
There was always something to grab onto
There was never any chase
The idea of you kept me company at night
Held me in moments of despair
And sung me to sleep
The idea of you always knew what to say
And when to say it
Knew words to untangle me
When my tongue grew tied
The idea of you was everything
I could have ever asked for
But you
Were not what I asked for
Your grip was rough
Your edges too sharp
Your caress anything but sweet
The only time you held me
Was when your arms had no other obligation
There was never any time made for me
You were running so fast
That I could hardly keep up
Always busy
Too consumed by everyone else
Too distracted
To pay attention to what lay in front of you
It is often the brightest lights
That blind the hardest
I must have been far too fluorescent
For your eyes to handle
And although it took me a while to see it
I finally do
I have come to realize
I never really wanted you
I wanted someone
Who didn't even exist.

After the heartbreak
You will learn to love again
It may take
Weeks
Months
Or years
But it will happen
After the fall
You will learn to build yourself back up
From the pieces left behind
It may take
Weeks
Months
Or years
But it will happen
After the spillage
Through all of this emptiness
You will be whole again
It may take
Weeks
Months
Even years
But it will happen
Change will happen
Life will happen
And you
Will be you again.

I remember my father's lips, still ripe from spitting the word cancer
His inner conflict finally released
How to tell his only daughter
Of the possibility she could lose her father
I do not know if I cried
I cannot remember
I remember the first time he told me
More so than I remember the second
His uncertainty was what terrified me most
But he told me that regardless of the situation
Everything will work out
How it is meant to work out
I nodded because I knew it would

I remember my father’s sunken eyes
This was the only time I had seen him at a point so low
Loss has a way of pulling people down
I couldn’t help but wonder if he cried
When he found my uncle's lifeless body
On the floor of his city apartment
I wonder if he sat there for a few minutes
Mourning the death of someone who never truly knew how to live
My uncle was bipolar
And everyday
Was a battle he fought with himself
A never-ending rollercoaster
Of highs and lows
Ups and downs
My father said
Maybe now he was at peace
I nodded because I knew he was

My father’s countenance
Says more than his words ever do
His expressions speak louder than language
I understand the writing on his face
I understand it all
Maybe it’s because ours are so similar in structure
Our almond eyes symmetrical
His smile, my smile
Mirror images
I know his attributes
More so than I know myself
I know him
More so than I know myself
He says we are one in the same
I nod because I know we are.

I fuel my lungs with oxygen
Work them with cardio
And then destroy them with cigarettes
I am a walking,
Talking,
And somehow still breathing,
Contradiction.

The reality is
You are too busy
For someone
Who has all of the time in the world.

Do not make false promises to a girl
Who is more familiar with letdown
Than she is herself
Do not tell her that you will call
When you know you wont
Her heart will begin to sync with ringtone
Skip with the sound of it
And drop every time it isn't you
When it is you
Do not say you will make it up to her
With tomorrow
And the next
She is still stuck on yesterday
Do not build her up with falsity
She has fallen too many times before
There have been too many disasters
Too many highs turned crash
And her heart becomes a lit cigarette
Burning down into nothing
She is not completely intact
And you are well put together
Do not take any of her pieces
You have enough as is
Do not give her any of yours
If you intend to take them back
Even if it is for one night
Do not love her
Or pretend to
It is much easier to fake intimacy
Than it is to erase it
Her skin is photographic memory
Every touch engrained within
There is no forgetting
So when you do leave
You will have left your mark

When she waits for you
She will do so eagerly
With patience
Her heart will skip too many beats
When you let her fall
And you are not there to catch her
She will learn to pick herself up
Brush off the dust
And move on
When you wait for her
You will know just how strongly
Time tugs on the heartstrings
You will hear her name
Every time your phone rings
You will see her everywhere
But she will not be there
She got tired of waiting around.

Do not ask me
Why I have trust issues
Ask everyone who has ever left.

For the girl who doesn't know how to say no:

I have been a version of you too many times
I have worn your body on frequent occasions
Always physically neutral, stock-still
Denying purpose into static
Eyes open
And breathing
I know exactly how it is
To not know how to refuse
Or resist when rough palms press on your skin
I know how it is
To feel there is no other option
But to lie still while eager hands pull at your body
Uninvited lips stepping into your mouth
How quickly a tongue becomes a weapon
I know it all too well
It is iron-clenched fists
It is unforgiving friction
And disintegration becomes second nature
For a girl whose limbs
Are already paper-made
Stares burned into too many white walls
A woman watching her own shadow
And the word no never escapes the vocal chords
Because there is never a question to answer to
It is assumed
That our shared pulse is enough yes
And consent is an easy thing to ignore
When it is hardly ever asked for
Men are taught to halt
Only if it is preceded by screeching
I wonder how many silent cries
Are covered by darkness and heavy breathing

This is for the girl
Who doesn't know how to say no
For the girl who chokes on her words before they can leave her lips
For the girl who freezes in uncomfortable situations
For the girl who has played mime too many times
For the girl who has been made surface to sandpaper hands
For the girl who is always vocal
But in a single instant became victim to chokehold silence

This is for you
I have been a version of you too many times
I have worn the fingerprints on your phosphorescent skin
I have pulled off your clothing after a night of detachment
I see you in every mirror I look into
Every stained glass reflection
I hear you every time he doesn't ask
It is so easy
To forget you have a voice
But I know with certainty that you do
I know
That you understand the stillness
The quiet
The hush
The absence of language
Words held hostage
You are the only one
Who bares the heaviness of night kneeling on your chest
The added weight from all those
Who have touched you without permission
I want you to know
I would carry it for you
If I could
I want you to know
It is not your fault
That your calmness
Is often mistaken for compliance
It is not your fault
That you so quickly fall paralyzed
Playing statue may seem
Like the easy way out
But you were never meant
To stand still
We are built to listen through our bones
Your voice is a million vibrations
Received through the skin
You were made
To howl our names into the ground
Until the forest shakes its trees to their death
And no one is around
To hear it.

The second night we spent together
Was in a warm apartment in the city of angels
You, laying on the couch
Windows open letting the summer air in
And I, dancing around the room
With a bottle of maker's mark in hand
Taking swigs with every chuckle
I laughed as I made my way on to your lap
Your arms holding me like you already knew me
We had only been together a week
But every day felt like an added year
You were so familiar
And on the first night we spent together
Our failed attempts to drift off turned into to talking
You leaned close
And asked about my life
We spoke effortlessly as strangers
Just to become less strange
You listened as I relived every moment
Every second feeling infinite
You told me
You never wanted to leave
That you wanted to stay and make home in my body
I would have let you
But the next day you boarded your flight back to New York City
Your eyes promising return
I said goodbye like I always do,
So accustomed to leaving

It has been three months since that day
And sometimes we talk
Your voice sounding the same as it did in my ear
Only now we are separated
By time zones and reality
Our lives both consumed by busy
There is only so much time in the day to miss someone
And I spend almost all of mine missing you
Thinking back to the night you held me like temporary did not exist
Your touch felt permanent ink on my skin
I bet if you looked hard enough
You would find your fingerprints as evidence
There was no caution tape with you
I let down my guard in an instant
And wore vulnerable
You told me
It looked nice on me
I said that you,
Would look nice on me
You are still so far
But one day when you return
We will start again
A new bottle of whiskey
And only future ahead of us
Until then
I will be here waiting patiently
For you
To come back to me.

You might be a sinking ship
Stuck in the middle of an ocean that is too big
Surrounded by other boats
All of them drifting with ease
Wondering how
They manage to stay buoyant
When you are drowning

You look around
To all of these people
In the midst of floating
All of them seeming perfectly intact
These people
See you too
And not one of them knows
About the hole in your heart

The one that is filling quickly with saltwater
It is heavy and aching
And the dullness is overpowering
To the point where you almost give in
Thinking that maybe there will be relief at the bottom
That there will be comfort in letting go

Do not let go

Instead
Breathe deep
Fill your lungs with air
And make your way back up
Take up space
As much as you can
Expand
And eventually you will reach the top

You are not drowning
You are merely swimming in rough waters
And it is possible
To make it out alive

So instead of waiting
For saviour
For your mermaid
Or sailor
To come rescue you
Rescue yourself
It is the only way
To truly stop the sinkage

In an ocean that is too big
It is easy to feel small
Do not let yourself drown
You were meant to swim.

I read a blog post
That I had written
Years ago
It was written
The night of my first kiss
And it was titled,
"The best night of my life ever"
I can say now
That it was probably not the best night of my life ever
But it was a good one
I remember it well
The fast pace of my heart
The whirling of my stomach
The smile plastered on my face for the whole week that followed
Prompting my mother to ask what the hell was wrong with me
That sunday in october
Years ago
Was the first time
I had ever felt butterflies
I wrote about it the night it happened
Eager to document my excitement
That sunday in october
Is a night that I still write about sometimes
I have kissed
Many lips since then
I have had hands touch me
Explored bodies
In ways that my 13 year old self
Would cringe at
I am much older now
But some days
I feel like time hasn't passed at all
Some days
I have to remember
That this body is not the same
It has played house to so many men
That I often forget who it belongs to
I am not the same person
That I used to be
I have had so much happen
Since then
So I wonder why
I am still writing about my first kiss
How it is the only memory
Since then
That I don't want to erase completely
My innocence was lost
Not long after
So I keep rewinding to that night
Continue playing it back
Back to spinning objects instead of bottles
For the chance to be kissed
And a moment of infinity
It's funny
How one of my fondest memories
Is a sunday in october
When the boy I liked
Touched his lips to mine for the first time
It's funny
How I still think about it
After so much has happened
After so much time has gone by
I am almost a completely different person
Than I was back then
But I still need reminders
That I'm not that girl anymore
I still think about her
I still write about her
I wonder
If she ever wrote about me
And who she thought she might be
After so many years
I still keep her blog up and running
For the sole purpose of reading it
For the sole purose of reflecting
On what was important back then
And what will always be
She wrote about her first kiss
To be able to remember it
I am writing about it
To keep her alive.

You may not be
The brightest rose
In a bouquet of flowers
But one day
Someone will find you
And call you their favorite
They will admire your petals
Your stem
They will withstand the thorns
And you will learn how to be soft again
They will see what most cannot

Beauty is in the eye
Of the beholder
And the one who holds you
Will find the beauty in your eyes
You may not be
The brightest rose
In a garden
But someday
You will be the brightest rose
To someone.

When he tells you that he is going to be honest
Brace yourself for the worst
Expect nothing less than blow to the chest
And make sure there is something to fall back on
There will be no arms to catch you
When he tells you that he met someone else
He is trying to tell you
That he met someone better
What he is saying
Is that he wants to love her
And that you
Are nothing more than a release
What he wants from you
Is purely physical
He will use your body
But crave her heart
It is understandable
There is no reason for him to want yours
Broken things aren't good for much anyway
He will ask for no strings
Unaware that you are used to being a puppet
And every time you open your mouth
You spill words that have been silenced by men's hands
How many times do they have to enter you without permission
For your lips to shut completely
Strings or not,
You are still dangling from a thread
When he tells you that he doesn't want to hurt you
Believe him
Anyone who really wants to
Will not tell you
What he doesn't know
Is that pain is inevitable
And you have so much of it already
You swallow it in doses mixed with memory every single night
Closed eyes and flashback
There are too many reminders already
You do not need any more
Instead cover up with a cigarette
And then another
I guess it's better
To know from the beginning
That he will end up leaving
A fair warning
Not to get attached
Does he know
That your heart is made of glue
Impossible to hold just once
Does he know
Of your velcro skin
And how it rips every time you are let go
You wonder how many times it will take
Before you learn to stop clinging to sand paper
When he tells you to keep this to yourself
And to not tell your friends that he is an *******
You will oblige
After all,
His reputation is far more important than your sanity
Far more superior than your dignity
And everyone knows a straight white boy's biggest priority
Is worrying about what others think of them
Instead of telling anyone
You will just write a poem
With the intent that someday the whole world will know
And maybe one day they will

When he ends all of this by saying that he is here for you
If you ever need anything
Laugh
Because you know the only thing you truly need
Is a good book
And a bottle of whiskey
Make sure to tell him
You never needed him
To begin with
And you never will.

I am the kind of person
Who has mental breakdowns in the line at subway
Decision making is difficult
Or maybe I'm just crazy
And I might be
Every day is unpredictable
Every day I wake up in the same body
A different person
People never believe me
But believe me when I say
I change on a daily basis
My mood is completely erratic
And always shifting
It is not desirable
To be this unstable
With the daily possibility of hurricane
And ever-present disaster
There is bound to be destruction
I think deeply about everything
Too much and too often
My personality is introverted
Yet I get upset when I'm alone for too long
Human contact is critical to my being
But sometimes I get upset if I am looked at the wrong way
I push people away
And then get mad when they don't come back
I don't make much sense at all
Really, I don't
Potato
I got a massage once
And cried for the whole 80 minutes
Because I had realized
I needed to pay someone to touch me for that long
It was still worth it
It's not normal
To fall apart this often
But I do
So often that it's become my daily routine
A repetition
Of overanalyzing
Freaking out
And then worrying
Followed by bouts of hysterical crying
I cry at the most irrelevant things
But never serious situations
I've been to two funerals in my life
And didn't cry at either
I didn't know how to
I am impulsive
I have seven tattoos
All of which were added within a span of three months
I make my decisions at the last minute
I'm addicted to netflix
I bawl my eyes out every time I watch lilo & stitch
Which is often
Sad music makes me depressed
But it's still the only thing I listen to
I say I hate hookups
And then spend a night with someone who will never speak to me again after
I look for love in all the wrong places
And then get ****** when I don't find it
Yell at happy couples because they are happy and I am not
I smoke cigarettes only because I like the smell of them
I drink too much
And then not enough
I look good some days and then like hell the next
My pillow has a permanent imprint of my head because I sleep a lot
Some nights I don't sleep at all
And then cry about it in the morning
I think I cry too much
And most days I realize this
I realize that I am
A mess
A whirlwind of ugly
Black and white
Back and forth
Thunder storm tidal waves
That constantly pick up and crash
A kaleidoscope of everything wrong in this world
All put together in one single being
I am the definition
Of insanity
But when you look at it
In the right perspective
I guess it starts to make sense
Starts to fold into something other than just breakage
I can't see the appeal in the chaos
I can't see the beauty
In any of this
But maybe someday
Someone will.

Note that when I say boy
I say it with purpose
I say boy
Because only men know how to hurt with intention
And you never did

I knew it then
And I know it now
You were too good for me
You are the glowing sun on a california morning
And I am a rainy dark seattle afternoon
The only time my city ever saw blue skies and sunshine
Was when you were in it
You made me laugh
On days when the weight of the world fell on top of me
You always made things light again
I am stubborn
I always have been
I was a bull that you never tried to tame
You never asked me to slow down
Only waited patiently with open arms
For me to come to a halt
I was rough
I would pluck and pull at your thorns until you reached your breaking point
You never did though
And in my moments of panic,
All you wanted to do
Was comfort me and try to understand
I'd push you away before you could even attempt to
I remember laying in bed
Your arms outstreched and caring
And me refusing to give in
Because of some grudge I was still holding on to
We fought a lot
But every time you were the first to forgive
I mastered the art of crossed arms and silence
While you sat laughing out of frustration
Because I was so ******* ridiculous
I picked at you until you bled
Waiting for you to hurt me back
But you never did
Only men know how to hurt with intention
And hurt was the one thing you were incapable of doing
I don't think you could have
Even if you wanted to
You were the first one who didn't try to break me
And I guess I was just expecting you to
I could say I only treated you this way because I didn't know love could be stable
But I think the real reason
Was that I feared if you knew
How great you really are
You would leave
I think the real reason
I treated you so poorly
Was that I was afraid of losing you
I want you to know
That I never intended to hurt you
I know now
I should have loved you better
I should have loved you
The way you loved me.

Money cannot buy happiness

My mother
Has a collection of jewelry
Diamonds are her favorite
Hers are pure and glimmering
She wears them on her hands
And over her heart
She has a collection
Of shiny things
They all sit pretty on her body
Glowing against her tan skin
But their worth is still not enough
To cure her instability
Or ease the anxiety that never leaves
She has all of these beautiful things
But still relies on antidepressants and nicotine
To make it through the day
And even after that
She is still not content
Money does not buy happiness

My father
Has a love for cars
He has spent his earnings
On greatly crafted vehicles
They are kept well and clean
They glisten
Shining almost as bright
As my mother's diamonds
They are fast
And smooth
Like his collection of fine liquor
All of the bottles lined up neatly
15 year, 18 year, 20
All of them rich in age
He has a lot of nice things
But at the end of the day
Still requires multiple glasses of whiskey
To wash out the bitterness of life
And the memories
Of how close he came to losing it
He has all of these cars
That take him from place to place
But it is still he
Who has to drag himself out of bed
Each morning to face the world
And even then
He is still not at ease
Money cannot buy happiness

Celebrities
Have lives that most would envy
But even they can be consumed by darkness
And fall victim to their own sadness
Money cannot buy happiness

The man who lives next door
Has a beautiful house
And a lot of things
To fill it
His home is never empty
But I can tell that he is
His eyes give it away
Money cannot buy happiness

I have
So much to be thankful for
I am provided
With more than one could ever need
And my level of privilege is beyond doubt
But most days
I struggle to make it through this one
And on to the next
It is always a never ending battle
Between me and myself
Between my mind and my sanity
Most nights
I fall asleep to a mix of ambien and panic
Having to **** my thoughts
With substance
I am overwhelmed
By constant fear
By frequent depersonalization and depression
Often feeling sad and then guilty

Because I have everything
I could ever ask for
But I am still not happy
These material things
Are not enough
To fill the gaping hole expanding within me
And there is a lot
That money can buy
But happiness
Is not one of them.

There are bits of poetry
And parts of lyrics
That slip out passed my lips
Every time I open them
There is so much beauty in voice
In language and in speaking
But there is also a magic in silence
In the up and down of chest to lungs
Air is the melody we all know how to hum to
My breath is the sound of crickets chirping
Even with my mouth closed I am singing
My pulse beats with a purpose
To remind me of the rhythm that is engrained deep within
My hands are always moving
Fingers never still
They are tapping to a song
That nobody else can hear
There is no stopping the music-
It is alive in me.

I remember
The way I was taught symmetry

Butterflies.

The pattern of their wings,
I was told,
Is a perfect example
Of consistency
Each wing
Will always match the other

I once saw a butterfly
With a missing wing
Unable to do
What butterflies are supposed to do

Fly.

In other words
Useless

My wings
Are not always even
Does that mean
That I too,
Am useless
Or am I still
Worth existing?

Not everything good in life
Is balanced
Or congruent
We are not geometry
We are living

The most perfect things
Are the ones
That don't match up
Perfectly.

He had a love that lasted years
I have had nothing
Even remotely close
Only what is fleeting
Rough lips and selfish tongues
Greedy hands and reckless touch
The only love I have ever known
Left without warning
I have never known love to be forgiving
Or patient and kind
That kind of love
Is not one I am familar with

I am well aware
That he is not here to love me
He is here to worship this body
That most days,
Doesn't even feel like my own
Most days
My skin is a jacket
That stretches over fragile bone
I only wear it because I have to
Because this world pokes and prods with sharpness
And there are only so many times someone can break completely
These tattoos
Are just a shield for vulnerability
Piercings,
Nothing more than metaphor for puncture
There are so many wounds still awaiting healing

And although this body
Hasn't been fully occupied by its tenant in years
I will let him spend a night in it
Let him believe that it is nothing beyond ordinary
I will let him carve his name into the arch of my back
Fingernails to flesh
Palms to ribcage
And for one night
He will make believe love to me
We will make believe intimacy
Make believe that lust is something
That can only be felt more than just momentarily
We will pretend that our affection is warranted
And be unbound

In the morning
He will wash my name from his mouth
Swallow it entirely
And forget he ever tasted it
Tomorrow
He will wipe my DNA from his skin
Rinse off every last trace of my lips
And I will do the same
There is no reason
That I should be something he comes back to
There is no reason for me to draw myself indelible
When all I will ever be
Is a lone evening of desire

Nobody wants to get to know the girl
Who barely knows herself
Nobody will ever remember the girl
Who forgets who she is every time she gives herself away
This is a girl
Who calls herself woman
But still cries in the dark

And someone
Who knows love as well as he does
Will never want someone
Who doesn't even know
What love is
Someone like that
Is better suited
For one night.

It's as if
Time didn't want us to be together
Almost as much
As I did.

Be cautious
Of the love you give out
And how much of yourself
You give away

There will always be someone
Who takes too much.

When Blake wrote his words
And colored them into image
Do you think he knew
That hundreds of years later
We would still be reading them
Do you think he knew
Centuries forward
We would still be singing his songs of innocence
And experience
I wonder
If our curiousity about his work
Pleases him
Or if maybe
He rolls in his grave
Sick of hearing his own art
On replay
Maybe he is laughing
Because we are trying
Too hard
Over-analyzing
Too much
I wonder
If he ever imagined
His poetry would live on for so long
Still continue breathe
Long after he stopped
I wonder
If he knew
It would remain alive
Even when he was not
I wonder
If any of the greats
Knew just how great they really were

Did Shakespeare understand
The potential in his pen
In his ability
To turn blood into ink
Did he know
How many decades could live
In just one short sonnet
And that one single story
Could become universal
Maybe he too
Is puzzled by our wondering
Maybe he didn't think
As much as we do
Maybe
He just did
Without thought
I often question
If we question too much
If we twist simple into complex
Make things more complicated
Than needed
All too often

If every writer
Who wrote our stories
Knew how much
We would become them
I wonder
If they would have written them
In the first place

I would like to think
They would
That they knew
Of the beauty
In challenge
That they wrote
With reader in mind
And the hope
That you
Will find it.

I don't really know
Where home is
Right now
I'm still searching for a place
To call one
I'm still looking for somebody
To be one
I don't really know
Where home is
But I am determined
To find out.

I share a bed
With anxiety
It's no wonder I can't sleep.

I am still waiting
To be able to make it through the day
Without thinking of you
Once.

I make wishes on every eyelash
On each penny thrown into fountains
When the clock turns sticks
I close my eyes
And make another
I am a believer
But mostly
I just take every chance
I can get
Any opportunity
For a wish to come true
My wants
Are not complicated
Simple
Consisting of happiness
Contentedness
Wanting to feel whole
Without needing someone else to fill the gaps
I do not put my wishes into words
Only thoughts
My mind is filled completely
With ideas I've strung together
Hopes I've held on to tightly
I make a wish
Every chance I get
I have never seen a shooting star
But I've had eyelashes fall from my lids
And land on my cheeks
Enough times
To be able
To call it
The same thing
Wishes do not come easy
So I am taking
Every chance
I get.

There are a million ways
To hurt someone
You seem to know them all.

I dreamt of you last night
For the first time in weeks
You once told me
That the thought of my body
Intertwined with yours
And the hope of us
Lulled you to sleep
In the mornings you would call just to tell me
That you saw me again
I'd ask you
How I looked
You would tell me
Lovely
You always looked better
In my dreams too
In insomnia
In late nights of why aren't you here
I knew the answer to the question
Before it left my mouth
Your heart was a house
With a two year lease belonging to someone else
I asked if she knew how lucky she was
To be able to live in you
A part of me always knew
That the reality of our combination
Was so far off from real
Our whispered promises
And breathless futures
Were nothing beyond fault line
I never should have crossed yours to begin with
Your voice
Still rings in my ear
Your leaving
Still fresh with sting
So abrupt in its existence
I used to count the days to you
What a foolish thing to do
When there was never a set date
I asked
When you were coming home
Forgot
That I wasn't yours to come home to
I would have locked my doors if I had known
You were just coming in to break things
And leave
You wondered if we could ever make it
Some nights I almost forget
You didn't stay to find out
Some nights
I see you
Last night
Was the first time in weeks
I don't remember
How you looked
Or exactly what happened
Only your words
And that you said
You are still waiting
For me

What a silly,
Silly,
Dream.

You slip off my tongue
Every five seconds
Your name stumbles out of my mouth
Every time I open it
I taste you
In every syllable
And I don't know how
To wash you out

Maybe I don't want to.

I want so badly
To be able
To touch you
But you are water
While I am fire
And due to the laws
Of physics
We will never
Collide.

I keep old movie stubs in my pockets
Polaroids
Concert tickets
Loose mints
Half pieces of gum
And the fortunes from cookies I ate at my favorite chinese restaurant
The one nestled between a church and a thrift shop
I keep an abundance
Of miscellaneous items
I like the reminders
Remembering
What was important to me at the time
And even though
I keep these things
I am not a hoarder
I am a collector
Of memories
Of moments
Of past that I refuse to let go of
I hold on
Much longer than I should
Fold every sweet second
Into the palm of my hand
And save them for later
Saving the sun for overcast days
Saving light
For nights when the darkness is too much
It is my memories
That keep me alive
But the same ones
Could very well
Be the death of me
I am a collector
Of both things good and bad
I hold on
Much longer than I should
But happiness
Does not have an expiration date
And there is always reason
To reflect
To smile
At a piece of paper
A picture
A note
Something
Anything
That once held significance
People change
Locations change
Life
Changes
But inanimate objects
Stand still even when time does not
I am a collector
And I am attempting to preserve
The fading.

I am homesick for your arms
Your touch
How we lay intertwined in bed
So effortlessly
Your body
Is more of a house
Than the one I live in
I know it so well
I could close my eyes
And see every inch
Your body
Is a road map
I have spent hours memorizing
I know every ridge of your skin
Every curve
I have traced the trail
That leads to your lips
Over and over again
You are so familiar
That without you
I miss you
But what I miss more,
Is the way I felt with you
Comforted
And at ease
I have always loved this
About you
I have loved you
For the longest time
And although we will not be together
For quite some time
I will always remember your warmth
Your softness
Keep it in my back pocket
And pull it out on days where I feel lost
I have yet to find
Another face of stubble
That is as gentle
As yours
There is not a soul
As sweet
As yours
Your arms
Are the only pair
That can soothe me to sleep
And I am homesick for them.

I have always been terrified of driving
I confided this to you in our second conversation
This city
Has an abundance of bad drivers
And the way the road twists and turns
Makes my stomach do the same
Anxiety takes over my body
And I become a worried wreck
That night in July
I had to drive home late,
Worn from a busy day
You assured me that I would be alright
Called me to make sure I was okay
Talked to me patiently as I made my way home
Your voice calming
Turning my worries into laughter
You told me you would take me anywhere
I could just sit back and relax
That you would love nothing more than to have one hand on the steering wheel
And the other on my thigh
I pictured it
Pictured you next to me
Windows down
Wind blowing through my hair
And your palm on my hot skin
Moving with ease
The thought of it
Almost made me crash
The though of it
Took every ounce of nervous off of my shoulders
And sent me into a spiral of wanting
I wanted you
So terribly
Worse than any anxiety I had ever known
And my biggest fear
Was the thought of you leaving
I used to be scared
Of car accidents and collisions
Terrified of the crash
I am not afraid anymore
I do not hold my breath any longer
I do not tense up
Instead I am calm
I am not afraid anymore
My greatest fear already came true
And it had nothing to do
With losing control of my car
It had to do
With losing you
You left
Just like I feared you would
Just like you said you wouldn't
You left
I am now learning
How to let go
I drive easier
Knowing the worst already happened
I am not afraid anymore.

I don't know how to ask you to leave
When at the same time
I want you to stay.

I am homesick
For a place
I have not yet found.

I still look for you
Everywhere
I am looking for myself
Too.

It takes a certain kind of person
With a certain kind of sickness
To be able to break others
So unapologetically

Congratulations.

I have become quite skilled
At downing a glass of scotch
Without blinking
I needed to learn how to fill myself
With something other than you
I have become quite skilled
At drinking two bottles of wine
In one sitting
Alcohol is the easiest way
To wash you off my tongue.

The thing that *****
About relationships
Is that you either break up
Or get married
To be honest
I am not quite sure
Which terrifies me more.

You weren't as great
As I painted you out to be
Maybe I'm just a good artist.

My depression
Wears a leather jacket
Smokes a cigarette against an alley wall
And asks me to dance with him
His voice is a scratchy mess of desire and impulse
His mouth is fresh of whiskey and regret
He extends a thin pale arm
And asks me to dance
Most times
I decline
Do my best to refuse politely
Even tango with mania instead
As an attempt to avoid him
But there is so much temptation
In darkness
And sometimes
It is hard to tell the difference
Between light and pitch black
Between white noise and screams
My depression
Whispers to me with heavy breath
Calls me baby girl
Tells me
That he can love me so well
Reminds me
That no one else will
Offers me rough hands
Convinces me
That they are the only ones left open
I do my best to resist
But almost always end up giving in
Eventually letting him hold me
Rock me back and forth
His arms feeling more haunted than house, than home
I watch
As he replaces the blue in my eyes with empty
Turns my occupied body into vacancy
He strokes my hair
And in my ear, says unworthy
Paints me ugly
Tells me that I am not pretty
And that nobody will ever want somebody like me
But that he does
So why shouldn't I love him back
Give all of myself completely
I think of all the ways he will treat me
Wonder if he is going to hurt me again
Know that he is
He will wrap my wrists into bleeding when I am lonely
Fill my mind with nightmare when I can't sleep
It is only after saying yes to his proposal
That I realize I do not want any part of this
My depression
Is the hardest lover to break up with
And every time I keep coming back
I always come back
My depression
Is the train I cannot step off of
I am too afraid of letting go
All of the paths intersect together
And the route is bound for destruction
It is unhealthy
To love something so volatile
But the clawing turns into comfort at night
And I do not know
How to sink my nails into something other than skin
My depression
Smokes a cigarette
And I watch the ash fall to the ground
As I fall to the ground
Like a bad habit that is all too familiar
My depression
Is nicotine
My depression
Is alcohol
My depression
Is an addiction
I keep coming back.

You promised me the stars
When all you could give was dust
You were an architect
Built up my hopes with such detail
Painted them into a pretty illuminated future
Almost as bright as the city of angels
A one bedroom apartment in the middle of expectation
You colored my doubts intricate
Swore on my last handful of trust
That you wouldn't waste it
There was only so much to begin with, you know
You promised me the stars
But all I got
Was dust
The residue of the kick-back from your boots
The leftovers you forgot to take with you
You promised me the stars
And gave me nothing
I am not an architect
But I am attempting to build my own sky
Without you
Stars and all.

I cut myself into pieces for you
So that maybe
I would be easier to swallow
You somehow still managed to choke
On my rough edges
On my bitterness
I am not sweet
Or saccharin
But I refuse to be forgotten
I will stick on your tongue with no remorse
You may have spit me out
Still in pieces
But I will become whole again
Soon enough
And I
Will linger
On your mind
My skin
Will linger
On your hands
And my taste
Will linger
On your tongue.

Some nights
I stand on stage
And read lines I have written
Lend my soul to strangers
And hope they enjoy it for the hour
I look out from blackness
To a crowd of many faces
But none of them
Are for me
Afterwards
I step out to greeting hands on shoulders
Smiling patrons with admiring words
But none of them
Are familiar
None of them
Are for me
I do not invite
Those I love
And the ones I do invite
Never come
Because they don't really love me at all
I do not invite
Those who do
To come watch me dissolve
Underneath these bright lights
I do not spill myself out
To those who already know what lays inside
My poetry is a blanket for everything ugly
And there is no need
To place it on those who have already seen what is underneath
Some nights
I am saddened by this
By entertaining a crowd that knows nothing more
Than my name and writing
Yes they have seen me bleed
And to them,
It is nothing more
Than an act
But there is no clotting after the show
No army of white blood cells to end the spillage
It is just me
Along with the remnants of what I've poured out that day
What people often forget
Is that my words follow me home
Some nights
I share them with others
But most nights
I keep them to myself
And every night
They stay with me
Sleep in my bed
The only good is in the reassurance
Of knowing they will be there
In the morning
Unlike every other
Who has left after the ******
Everyone
Always leaves
And I am afraid
That if I wring myself empty
To those who already love me
They will do the same
I do not know
How to clean up my mess with pride
I only know
How to sweep it aside
So for now
I will continue
To stand on stage
And read lines I have written
Lend my soul to strangers
And hope they enjoy it for the hour
I know they will
My performance
Is their escape.

I wonder
If she asked about me
Or if you told her
If your guilty conscience finally got the best of you
Shook you until my name bled from your mouth
Maybe
You never even mentioned me
At all
Maybe you didn't have to
Maybe it was easy
Maybe you woke up one morning
And decided that what you already had
Was much better than what you were going after
Maybe you finally understood what I meant
When I said I wasn't worth it
I never wanted to come between
But you welcomed my interference with open arms
Promised me oasis in desert future
And I caved
Because I have always been weak
Because I have always had a soft spot for guys with tattoos and turbulence
Our plane crashed long before takeoff
And somehow
I am still awaiting closure
Spend time telling myself you still think of me
Convince myself I'm still in your head
You already did the forgetting
You managed to do so with such ease
So effortlessly
Maybe you erased my number
Swallowed my image
And then trained your mind to delete
Programmed me into your brain as nothing more than homewrecker
Remember it was you
Who invited me in
In the first place
Gave me the hammer
And told me to start breaking
I split myself into two for you
Emptied out parts I kept deep inside
Poured myself in your hands
Painted my skin transparent
Confided about the night I was taken without permission
You promised
To never hurt me
Like he did
But disappointment is a certain kind of ache
It does not go away overnight like you did
You should have told me to begin with that we,
Were just a game you were playing
While your real life recharged
I am sorry
That I ever held my tongue for you
There will be no remorse
I can not grieve over something that never was
Our existence
Ceased before it began
So I,
Am back to placing caution tape around my body
Back to glueing my lips quiet
I wonder
If you sleep easy at night knowing how you left me
Knowing that I am still questioning
I know
She didn't ask about me
She didn't have to.

I'm not a morning person
But I think I could be
If I woke up
Next to you

I know
That someday
I will have to stop checking for updates
Waiting to see if there is anything new in your life
Anyone new in your life
I am not in your life
But I still look at your pictures now and then
To remind myself what you look like
I do not want to forget anytime soon
I know
That you forgot me long ago
But I hold on to hope that maybe
You wonder about me
Read my poetry
Type my name in at the top of your screen
Look for my image on media that is anything but social
My eyes used to light up
Every time your name did on my phone
A type of high I'd only get
From knowing that you were thinking of me
I still think of you, you know
And the nights where I can't sleep I find myself searching for you
You are not difficult to find
I know
It is a waste of energy
To keep following you
But it's so easy
When your footprints are everywhere
Your trail intertwined with mine
Your promise is still imprinted on my tongue
And disappointment still lingers on my skin
The light in my eyes is now gone
It has been replaced with a dull ache
And artificial happiness
I know
I need to stop condemning myself to this torture
There is no more future for us
There never was
There never will be
I know
I need to stop looking for you
You are not looking for me.

Pablo Neruda wrote too many love poems
Almost all about how someone compares to the ocean
But he forgot
The often times both human
And nature
Are more storm than calm
The sea is reckless and unforgiving
And already there are too many writings
About softness and sweet
Too many sonnets about gentle
Love
Is not gentle
Love grabs from the roots and pulls with savage hands
Demands to be more than just flower
More than white petal admiration
Love is thorn and finger-pricking
Bleeding palms and heavy skin
Love
Is often ugly
And I am wondering how
Neruda found it possible
To find so much beauty in it
How it is possible
To write so much beauty
I can only guess
That he must have had a love
Greater than most
A love that molded his heart into convection oven
Spitting his words into saccharin and sweet
Candy for the world to savor in their mouths
Maybe he always wrapped his language in gold
Or maybe it's just that he saw what others couldn't
Found spark in the ordinary
Somehow managed
To string together letters in crochet
Sew them into masterpiece
I want a love
That can make me do the same
I still think Neruda
Wrote too many love poems
But it makes sense
When you are told to write what you know
And all you know
Is love.