It's not the fact that you're older that should make you proud
But the fact that you're still here
You survived another year
Yes, I said survived
I say it with purpose
Life is not as easy as wake up, live, and go to sleep
Sometimes a day means dodging bullets
And there can be 365 days of playing straight target
Nobody knows how many obstacles you've jumped through to get here
So yes
You survived
You deserve more credit than a card
Or a cake
Or a reminder of your age
It doesn't matter how old you are
All that matters is that you're ******* alive
Profanity is acceptable in this situation due to the fact that
millions of people die every year and you aren't one of them
So be happy about that
Not the day of your birth, no
Not the once a year occurrence
Not the fact that the law says you can do something new
You should be happy that a shark didn't bite you or
that breathing is something you can still do
We've been celebrating the wrong things for too long
In a world that doesn't appreciate effort like it should,
Where all is unpredictable,
You are still here and
That
is definitely something to be happy
about.

When he shows up at my door at 1:30 am, I do not hesitate
Instead invite him in with tired arms,
Make a conscious decision to sacrifice a night of sleep
to lie in the body of a boy on my too small twin sized bed
It was not made to hold another but
this heart was

His smile is summer in the marina and feels too much like the sunsets of
red and
purple and
pink

I want to bury myself in the sand next to him beneath
A sun too harsh for our pale skin to meet, one that
will leave us burnt and peeling and laughing at our human turned starfish bodies
I want to be surprised by the freezing that comes from
running into the ocean bare and unbound but
for now all we have are the sheets we are in
so we sink further into the memory foam

Too delicate and slow for my eagerness to grab onto,
He mentions the softness of my lips as they trace his
I laugh and say
“I try”
What I really mean is
“I hope I am enough for you”
His limbs stretch across the length of the mattress, mine fold to fit his
Our cohesion in this lack of space is a packed box and
I don’t mind the suffocation

I think to myself that
this intimacy right here
is exactly what I need,
to be touched like I am important even if it is just for a moment

I decide that this hour of holding before
his eyelids fall together for the remainder of the night
is worth the 10 hours I will spend not sleeping
His breath, heavy with exhaustion, overpowers the sound of my starving heart
beating for the music of his and
that’s completely fine

I am running out of ways to
tell him he is exactly
what I want

So I let him stay as an unspoken declaration of always welcome
I let him make my bed a home with the hopes that
in turn he will make one out of me

I am in his bed
We are laughing while carelessly exploring the roadmaps of each other’s bodies
His hands run their coarseness over the soft of my skin
I smile, he smiles,
Lifts his head, locks his eyes into mine and says,
"You are the perfect amount of thick."
I feel my stomach fold itself paper airplane and my head starts to spin with the sudden weightlessness
He does not know the impact of his language painted compliment
Before I can even comprehend his words I draw a grin onto my face so falsely wide that I imagine myself becoming caricature, toss my hair calmly over my left shoulder and without a second of defense,
I say thank you.
I say it
Like the categorization of my figure isn't a box I have been trying to fit into my whole life, I say thank you like I've never had to squeeze myself into almost
I give gratitude like I am truly appreciative for the approval his lips have given me, as if our intimacy wasn't enough confirmation already
I say thank you, grateful that I am not too much but terrified that I could easily become just that
I have origami twisted my bones too many times to feel anything but bent in the all of the parts of me I still cannot find comfort in
I often abandon taking care of myself like it is something I need a reminder to do
I have my body is home tattooed on my wrist when most days it feels more like a rental
I let him pretend to love me the way I do with myself always
I let him call me perfect like it's a word that has never made me a sacrifice
I let him call me thick like I am the meat on his dinner plate, cut exactly for his taste
I can't help but wonder if one extra layer of fat would cease his appetite for me

He says these words without knowing how many times I have had to cut myself into pieces to fit into hungry mouths
He means his to be flattering and sweet
He intends nothing more than to worship my body in the best way he knows how to
But there cannot be religion for those who do not understand that this temple is leftover from a war
A fight of not enough, of an excess, of too much, of just right, of not even close
I have never been good at finding balance
This body is a safe haven for lost souls
It impossible to not expand when so many stories live inside of it
I want to tell him that the density in my limbs and the mountain range that covers the surface is the only form of protection I have
This shape is not a choice, it is survival
I cannot predict when or how I will grow if I do and if I do,
I cannot expect love to give me any less than what it does now
Even if there is none in the equation
I stopped counting and adding and multiplying a lot time ago, my weight is a formula I don't allow myself to know the answer to
And far as I'm concerned, I don't need it
For each human I bare my nakedness to, I hold my breath in hopes that there will be no earthquake in my vulnerability, no shatter of the ground below us as a result of being bare
I am afraid of cracking the ground of tomorrow with who I am today
So do not tell me infallible
Do not feed me adjectives served on a gold platter
I will not take what it is I do not create
Even if interest is shown in each curve I have,
There are better ways of expression
And this thick,
Is only mine to say it is.

All of my belongings are strewn across the floor
lone socks, piled clothing, a book of poetry
the carpet is covered in empty bags and pens and pieces of notebook paper filled with lines I couldn't finish
I never found the right words to

I know I should be putting my life together
folding and storing and cleaning
I should be fixing the chip in the wall or doing something of importance
there are too many boxes I still haven't packed, but
all I'm thinking about is how to get you back

I should be moving out of this house into the next but
I'm wrapping myself in these same red sheets wishing you were sinking into the mattress with me
phantom feeling skin that isn't touching mine
longing like the hungry heart I always claim to not have
but here I am, starving again
insatiable

and when I leave I wont miss the salt in the air or
the sand building hills in every crack of the room
I wont miss the ink stained sunsets much
or the welcoming breeze that morning wakes me up with
I wont miss it at all

not the sound of waves or the way the moon looks when
everyone is too busy to notice
the stars and how they peek out during the vacant of night
not the crawl of sunlight through windows and
the dance the curtains do when the door is left open

not even the sounds coming from the alley outside in the middle of sleep
or the scratch of cars along the one way street
I wont miss it, I promise
there's no point in missing what I can always come back to

but I will miss you
I will the way I have for however long I haven't had you here
for whatever city you're in today
for whatever heart you're casing inside yours
for whatever one that isn't mine
how ironic it was that you used to be just a few blocks down the beach
now we're more than miles apart in distance
I wonder if your thoughts ever find their way to me

I buried too many feelings in the sand  
leaving seems an easier feat than digging up memories
and I don't think there's enough time in the world to get to where I need to be to be okay again

all of my belongings are strewn across the floor
lone socks, piled clothing and a book of poetry
the carpet is covered in empty bags and pens and pieces of notebook paper filled with lines I couldn't finish
I never found the right words to
I'm starting to think I never will

The odds of being struck by lightning
Are one in 3,000
I watched from a window
As 13 people that were not me
Got struck by it
Just a few feet away
From where I was standing
And I am left thinking
About how that could have so easily
Been me
Out of curiosity
I looked up odds in a lifetime
I wanted to know
How often things happen
What came up
Consisted only of odds of dying
And I laughed
Thinking
About all of the other odds
That were more important than death
That were more interesting
Than freak accidents
And demise
How about the odds of meeting someone
With the same exact name
Or the odds
Of loving someone who loves the same stuff
As you do
The odds
Of throwing a perfect game in baseball
Are one in 18,192
The odds of finding your soulmate
Are one in 10,000
And more people are concerned
Of getting bit by a shark than finding love
The chances of that happening
Are one in 11.5 million
Sharks are not the enemy
We are
If you ask me
I would say
I'd much rather focus
On the rare positives
There are good things that happen daily
That happen unexpectedly
It is better to hope for those
Than worry about ones unlikely
You can measure the past
All you want
Give it numbers
And try predict future
But one thing you cannot do
Is measure life.

To wonder where you are now
is to think of you often
is to find you in memory
and look for you in public

To wonder who you are now
is to recall who you were then
how you used to be when with me
and how different you are without

To wonder what you sound like today is
to wonder if you're laugh is still wild
if your smile still comes like a full moon in December
if your voice still rings gentle

To wonder if you ever wonder
is to twist a thought into a whirlpool
is to get pulled in without trying
is to be lost again in what has already passed

I can't help but wonder
if I ever slip into this life you have now
if my hands ever crawl to your loneliness
or if you ever wish they would

To wonder about you
is to say a prayer without an answer
to repeat it every night
and still hope for a call back

You use too many big words
You say inevitable too often
You are addicted to nicotine
Smoke cigarettes too frequently
You drink too much when you do
And when you do,
You're a mess
I know all of this
But I want to know your secrets,
Your fears,
Your nightmares,
Your happiness,
I want to know it all
I just don't know to ask
Or how to find words big enough to make up for the courage I lack
Maybe a better vocabulary could suffice for the pride I do not have
My interest in you has always been inevitable and I don't mind it
I stopped smoking weeks ago and I've never needed to
But I keep a pack for when and if I need to feel burning sensation
I only drink on rare occasion
And when I do it is never more than a glass
I am not reckless and
I am not a lot like you but I like you
I like your habits
Both good as well as bad
And I want to be one of them.

Often times
We are so mesmerized by the chase
That we forget whom we are running after
Or why we started following their path
In the first place
Our intentions become unfamiliar
So caught up in the excitement
It is easy
To get lost in the chaos
Become addicted to the adrenaline
There is something so appealing
Beautifully devastating
About loving someone
Who will never love you back
The chase
Is the root of humanity
What we cannot have
Only makes us want it more
And knowing we'll never have it
Only makes our hearts grow thirstier
And our imaginations stretch wider
Believing it is better
To hang on by a string
Than it is to have nothing to hold on to
The chase
Is what fuels us
It is the catalyst to disaster
And we feed it anyway
Each day is motivation
Determination building from every let down
His failed promises
And excuses
Apologies and forgiveness
Those who show remorse
Do not always mean it
But grant it anyway
Forgive again
Play the scene over and over
He will hurt you the same the next day
And yet
You will still run
Arms open
Eyes closed
Trying to catch up
With what is ultimately unattainable
Attempting to reach
For hands that pull away
Kissing lips that speak only of now
Never tomorrow
Crawling with tired legs
And weak knees
But the chase
Is what keeps us
Going
Going
Going
Without ever
Looking back
The chase
Is what keeps us
Living
Searching
Longing
The chase
Is the heart
Of passion
We are running
With no intention
Of ever stopping.

It doesn’t matter how many times you fall
Or how many times you get let down
It doesn’t matter if it’s done gently, swiftly, all at once
The force of gravity and the role it plays in the situation is irrelevant
And it doesn’t matter how hard you hit when it finally drags you down

It doesn’t matter how many times you fall
And it doesn’t matter how many times you get let down
It will hurt every single time
Maybe not the same, maybe even worse
It can range from scraped knee to broken wrist to bleeding mouth
It can be mild, it can be severe
It can last for a moment, a month, a year
But it will always hurt when it happens

It isn’t about preparing for the crash
You could be parachute-ready, eyes open, waiting
You could be practicing your jump, grace, descent
You could prevent yourself from building up too high and planning
But the impact of the landing will still be there

It’s going to hurt
The first time, the fifth, the tenth
Nobody tells you that it will, but it will
You will say to yourself,
“I’m never going to let this happen again”
“I’m going to be more careful next time”
“I’m setting my expectations low from now on”
You can tell yourself that you’re not hoping for anything, that you never were
That it is your fault for not bracing for the disappointment
You could say that you’re simply floating out the ride
But when it comes to a halt,
You will still **** back

It doesn’t matter the circumstance
Or how many people have dropped you before
Whether or not you were holding on tightly enough isn’t a factor
It’s still going to hurt when you hit your head,
Your hands will still crack from the friction
And it’s not going to be pretty

You’re going to feel it in all of your being
You will pull the splinters out of your eager heart one by one,
Leaving behind holes as you do
You will push the bones back into their sockets like routine
And you will bandage the wounds of led on

Maybe hurts
Almost hurts
Heartbreak hurts
Memory hurts
It’s going to ******* hurt

But you’re going to be okay
You will fill the gaps with cement stirred confidence
You will pile back the bricks high with pride
You will learn to hold your heavy head up even when it feels like too much to carry
You will paint a smile on in permanent ink
You will barely make it through some days, but you will make it
You’re going to be all right.

I have the word jealousy plastered on the walls of my mind
I do not announce it
After all
I am much too proud for that
But I think it
A lot
Run it back and forth through my head like a car on a track
Envious is engrained in my genetic makeup
So I make up reasons why I shouldn't be
Cover myself with thick layers of false confidence
Draped over my insecurity
She
Is prettier than me
She is tall
And
Skinny
Natural blonde hair that falls over her shoulders
Wears her smile like she is just happy to have had woken up this morning
I
Am bitter
Often overthinking the reality that life is
Plagued by my inability to hold onto happiness
Not to mention
Short
And what my mother would call
Curvy
I am not like her
We do not have similarities
The only time she is on her knees is when she is praying
I do not pray
Instead
Beg my sorrows away to alcohol and other unholy sins
I have never been able to believe
In things that cannot be seen
But she
Is different
She on the otherhand
Probably doesn't need to be touched
To believe
That you love her
Your word is probably enough
But see I've learned not to trust
For I have been let down too many times
And I constantly find ways
To build myself back up
So I call her a stripper
Although she is an avid church goer and I myself have never been
I say she dresses too mature
And although she is only a few years younger
I say she is too young for you
To make myself feel better
Let me be the first to admit
I am jealous
I am envious
I am everything that most people would probably never guess
I am all of these things
Not because I want to be her
But because
She probably makes you happier
Than I ever did

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

You say you hate Los Angeles,
the city but mostly people there and
I can't help but wonder how
you managed to meet everyone
in the entire county,
a couple million or so,
from the few trips you took out here

But I think the problem isn't that
you hate Los Angeles
I think the problem is
you love me too much
at least I'll tell myself that when
I'm laying in bed with open eyes
wondering why you aren't here

I offer you planes, plans, my wallet
I say I'll pay, just for two days and
you say no without hesitation
I say I have a life and
I want you to see it and
you say you have no interest

Well,
if you have no interest then
why are you calling me?
why waste time talking over
nothing?
what is it that you are so
aftaid of?

You say we'll fight and
I know it's true although
it's not suffice to say
it's all we'd do
I say what about the making up that
comes after it all,
isn't that worth it
after all?

I can't have you in
my life if you're not here
this is something I know
I reach for arms that aren't there and
It's a bad habit I'm getting used to
I don't want to go back to
my old life
I want you to be in my new

but you hate Los Angeles and
school and everything in
life is too hard for you
you're mad I have opinions and
you never listen to them anyway
so you can stay
in the heat that will eventually
become cold
and I'll leave you alone because
that's what you want

I know it isn't
but I don't want to go back to
my old life
so I guess all there is to do
is to just find someone
new

I will love you without trying
Eyes closed, effortlessly
I will care too much
I will act like I don't at all
I will think about you more than I do myself
I will pretend that I'm not looking for anything
I will lie about the fact that I always am
I will tell you I'm okay
I will avoid admitting that I'm not
I will ask you how you are
I will actually care about your response
I will wait to respond to your text
I will make it seem like I am busy
I will not say I've been waiting
I will pay you more attention than I've ever gotten
I will give you all of me too easily
I will ask you what you need and be that
I will treat your smile like a privilege
I will want to play your laugh on repeat
I will admire it too much
I will try harder than I should
I will love you without trying
Eyes closed, effortlessly
And I will do it well.

You say,
"I'm sorry for dragging you
into my life"
and I want to laugh the loudest
laugh possible for my lungs to emit, my
chest heaving with the irony, the
actuality that I was not dragged in forcefully
I stepped in willingly
to a door already closing

-

I hope she loves you as well as
I never got the chance to
I hope she speaks about
how full her heart is and how
easy it is to be with you
I hope this half ton of weight that
is finally off my chest makes
its way on to yours
I hope it's not too much to carry but
then again I do

-

You say,
"I'm sorry, don't hate me"
but my dear,
don't you know that it is myself that
is always the target of disappointment?

-

I hope I'm washed out of your mouth by
the time you kiss hers
the sour, the whiskey, the passionate hatred,
the coming back again,
tonight the neighbors are having a party and
all I can think about is
us at 2 in the morning dancing
to the noise of each other

-

You say,
"I'm sorry, I've tried calling"
but we both know the lack of dial tone in your voice and
the absence of ring in mine says enough
I waited for an answer but
you hung up

-

I am certain that
I will spend the rest of my time in this city
searching for you in other people,
I am convinced that
I will need sleeping pills to forget
the music in your voice, your singing in my ears
has become nothing more than a repeated knocking

-

You say,
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry"
I say nothing but
in my head I say thank for
untying this knot we
got ourselves into
-

this is about a future that does not have you in it
one where I will pick at my food while you
pick at her shirt, pulling off clumps of cotton, laughing,
while I try to fill this empty stomach with anything but
sorrow and morosity

this is a poem about a song that isn't for me
she's a poet too,
how fitting

At midnight I will scroll through all
of the names on my phone looking
for ones my hungry heart can
devour or savor for a moment or two.
I will find yours from two months
ago when we talked most recently
and think yes, yes this is who
can cure the insatiable appetite.
My mind will say no, no,
bad idea, nothing good will
come from this reaching out
of a hand too eager, grabbing
for purpose, don't do it.
Fingers will type regardless, a
text of hey or how's it going
or where are you or what's up
or maybe even a somewhat
unconscious I miss you,
I will try to say I love you
without saying it at all.
Holding my breath, I will press
send and it will mail off to you
so you can read my desperation
like a casual hello when really
I've packed a million words
unsaid into the few that I have
picked out to type hesitantly.
At 12:02 I will stare blankly
at a message that has yet to
be replied to and I will continue
to, waiting until my eyes are shot
from staring at a lit screen for
too much time, I will then stop.
I will turn off the phone but before
I do I will breathe in the letters of
your name one last time to remind
myself why I do this every night.
I do it because I'm lonely or
maybe it's because I don't want to
come back to an empty room, the
quiet of a bed holding my body only.
You are the remedy for this craving,
even if you do not answer until
morning, or next week, or never
I will search for you always

The smell of whiskey makes my teeth hurt and today I woke up gasping for breath
Missing you kind of feels like rubbing alcohol on every paper cut from the scraps left behind
Some days it is a hollow swelling but the majority feel more sunburn, easy to forget but sore when touched

I used to dream about waking up with you as a normal routine, instead there is only quiet
I hold my hands together when I sleep to fill the space of a bed too big
I find pieces everywhere, your hair on my pillow, your cologne on my sweater, your sock, just one, tucked into a drawer I didn't know existed

I don't think about you often but when I do it becomes a sinking
A hole jammed into the side of a ship that had just learned how to stay afloat
There is never enough time for me to save myself from drifting off and I give up

It is back to you, and the guilt washing on your face when you said this feels weird, lips building lies like the fixing of shelter after a storm
When another someone tells me how soft my skin is, I want to light it on fire to burn off your fingerprints,
To forget that you said the same so often

I want to call you and ask why you haven't tried to reach me
I want to remind you that we live in the same city, big, enough distance apart to ignore
I want to pull your hands out of my hair and your breath off of my neck but I'm aware of the inexistence of both

I'm aware that now you have become nothing more than a figment of my imagination
Gone from reality but still alive in memory I do not try to erase
I'm not waiting for your return, I know you wont but I am waiting for the day my tastebuds don't crave you
It will happen, sooner or later but
for  now I still do

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.

We grew up
Quickly
Wishing to be older
Wanting nothing more
Than freedom
16 meant driver's license
18 meant cigarettes
And 21 was left for liquor
For gambling
And finally calling yourself
A grown up

It was his birthday
A few weeks ago
The age
We spend our whole lives
Waiting to be
And he came so close
To being it

21
It has been
Half a year
Since his leaving
So abrupt in its presence
Death has a way
Of shaking you
Waking you up
Only to have you fall back asleep
Again
And forget about it
It's hard to remember someone is gone
When you don't see them
Everyday
Loss is funny like that

21
You look through the texts
On your phone
Years back
You didn't know him well
But you knew him
And past tense feels strange
Knowing these kinds of things
Are permanent

21
Your best friend
Introduced you
That night in September
Spent filling lungs with smoke
I think it was a high holiday
The four of you
Laughing over nothing
The irony of it all
Kills me

21
She loved him
Still does

21
Taking hits
Escalates
Into much more
One time
Is all it takes

21
It is his birthday
The first
Without him here
He can finally do
All of the things
We've been doing for years
In secret
In hushed voices
And in hiding from our parents
Except now it is legal
Now it is allowed
Now it is okay
But it is not okay

He is 21
And he is not here
To celebrate

He is 21
And his mother
Is pouring a glass of wine
Alone

He is 21
And his birthday wishes
Sound more like condolences
There are words of grief
Instead of cheers
His facebook
Is a collection of memories
And emotions
He will not be forgotten
We swear

21
We grew up
Wishing to be older
Wanting nothing more
Than freedom
Age may not liberation
But neither
Is death

21
Make sure
To have a drink
For him.

I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you
I don't miss you too terribly
I only think of you sometimes
I can forgive easily
I never wanted to be in your life anyway
There's plenty of other people to love
I'm just waiting for the right one
I left the house enough times this week to call it progress
I swear I'm doing okay
I eat when I'm supposed to, I don't drink like I need to, and I stopped smoking
My lungs are full
So am I

I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you
You're girlfriend is better off not knowing
I want her to be happy too, really
I am happy
Really, I am
I got out of bed today when I was supposed to
I brushed my teeth, flossed, cleaned
And I did all of it without you,
Didn't I?
Not once did you cross my mind
In fact, you hardly ever do
I am too busy for distraction,
Writing poems about other things than the crippled dream that was us
I use past tense purposefully
I am over you

I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you
I can sleep in these sheets without feeling your phantom limbs grazing mine
It's okay that you left so little behind
I can swallow the shells without choking
I can listen to music without hearing your voice singing along
Your absence is what I've always wanted
I hope you're happy, really I do
I'm better off without you.

Home is where the sand meets the water meets the waves meets the crashing
Home is where I tuck toes into sun-caressed ground that sinks into memory
Home is where the weather is salted and the air blue and hands always warmth
Home is where the ocean bellows a welcome with open arms, cold, tempting
Home is where an excited skipping inhabits the eager legs of a dog too human
Home is the crow's calling for tomorrow
Home is where the voices whisper soft in alleyways outside windows at 3 a.m.
Home is holding a glass of Santa Margarita in front of a graceful fireplace
Home is a ripe avocado waiting to be pitted
Home is my bed full of past unwanted and future anticipated
Home is the bittersweet taste in the mouth
Home is a single cigarette burning to mourn loss unknown
Home is where the glow of a quiet street befriends city lights
Home is his laugh echoing through the silence of the night
Home is my smile growing with the wind's howl
Home is where this body misses another
Home is where I touch you and remember why I'm here
Home is I'm coming back,
Home is I'm counting down the days
until I am

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.

We played house quite nicely
The two of us in yours, pretending
it was ours

We acted out our definitions of home,
what we learned it meant growing up,
you without a mother or
father, me with both and too much love
I tried to imitate their arguments,
reckless yelling without purpose and
you, the quiet child in the corner didn’t
know how to fight back

I sat atop the kitchen counter and
you fed me bread and lies but
mostly lies
I took them with ease and
swallowed willingly,
smiling like they do in sitcoms
happy, always

We played house
taking care of this one like we knew how to
when really all we knew was how to
love carelessly
**** occasionally and
walk the dog

You the husband, I the mistress
this was our home, unconventional but
intact
it was fun being lover but
only for so long

The key to playing house
is to never mention the future
everything is pretend and
there is no talk of forever or later and
all that really matters is right now

This is what we did
and oh, were we good at it

We played house quite nicely, or at least
until the roof caved in and
the walls cracked and
the floor sank
we then looked at the wreckage and
sighed

What a silly game for us to have played
But oh, we were good at it.

It's been so long since I've touched you
So long since i've felt the scratch of the stubble surrounding your lips
The kind that I always complain about
But deep down i think you know how much I adore

It seems like it's been an eternity since I've felt the softness of your skin
The way it streches over your bones so delicately
My fingers repeatedly outlining the indents of your back
Fitting my hands into the deepest curves

My lips have never felt so lonely
Missing the tickle from even the slightest and most gentle brush of yours against them
Forgetting that talking is their main function
Wishing that instead their only job was to love

My legs hang loosely and awkwardly without having yours to intertwine with
And arms rest on each side of my body feeling desperate for companionship

Hands locked into oneanother
So accustomed to holding
Naturally curling inward
Craving the rough callus of your palms


I did not know
That a body could feel nostalgia
But a need for touch proves otherwise.

I think about how waking up
is an identical routine
after a restless night of shifting
The comforter meets the floor, there is
a single sock wrapped somewhere in the sheets
hair is tangled for a reason unknown
and everything in the bed somehow became a mess
This is how it is, always

I think about how not wanting to get up
usually follows the waking and
falling back asleep always seems like
a better option than getting out of bed
to face the world
but I do anyway, we do
anyway

But I think it would be easier,
this rise to consciousness,
if you were the alarm clock calling to a new day, if
your body were to lay parallel to mine and
the tossing meant I could catch you every time you turned
It would be a privilege to know your morning breath

It would be a privilege to forget your presence in sleep and then
wake to find you next to me

It would be a privilege to be yours the way it is
to watch the sun rise everyday while
knowing it will always set in the evening
there is comfort in predictability,
there is beauty in monotony,
and calm in knowing what will happen
tomorrow

I always come back
Regardless of what I do
I return to you

I watch him bite his lip and
Can't help but wish that it were
My own pressed between his teeth
Instead

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.

The razor blade in the cabinet gets thrown out,
it never gets the opportunity to learn deep.
I tell him to drive me home before I become too tired to care.
I save myself for someone who does.
Haley doesn't move away,
we finish high school the way we plan.
The dealer who sells death is gone the day he calls to ask for some,
when they find him,
it isn't too late.
She doesn't walk out of the party when she does,
the bullet misses her by a few minutes.
I am sweeter to my love when it exists,
I pull him around my waist as the music plays and
we drive home that night happy
I laugh at our fights and am the first to surrender always
I don't let stubborn win
I don't let it end in a single phone call
I try a little harder.
The cancer is discovered earlier or
It never comes at all.
When he takes without asking,
I take back what's mine
I don't let him leave me silent,
without fight,
I take the lit cigarette he borrows from me,
burn a gap into the center of his palm and say,
"This is what you asked for, isn't it?"
I bury my unused pepper spray in the backyard.
Nobody tells me,
"You should have been more careful."
After spilling my story,
I don't respond to the thank you for sharing
I ignore it and never have to hear his later excuse for disinterest.
I take the temporary out of his heart and give it back to him.
I stop communication the minute he says,
"I'm still with her."
I go back to the tattoo shop and cover up the words before they start to sync with memory.
When he calls me beautiful,
I call him on his *******,
I leave before he can form a response.
I don't invite him back on lonely nights.
I actually hear him say sorry.
When he asks to comeover, I say I'm busy.
I don't give him the chance to know how it feels to kiss me.
I don't answer when he wonders how I'm doing.
I don't wonder how he is.
I apologize for my mistakes with genuine sincerity.
I stop breaking already intact things.
I tie every loose end before leaving
I move away content.
I am happy.

Today I am human
Today I got two legs out of bed to face a world that is sometimes cold
Today I walked tired feet just to make sure they still do their job right
Today I ran fingers through hair and remembered there were teeth to brush, a face to wash
Today I woke to a bottle of water half full by my nightstand
Today I drank it's contents with a handful of vitamins
Today I remembered the importance that breakfast holds so I had it
Today I dressed a body that now and then can feel unfamiliar
Today I pushed the sheets back on the bed to make it almost neat
Today I fluffed a pillow to its full extent
Today I put lotion to skin that is too dry from the California sun
Today I put gas in my car
Today I fed myself without guilt
Today I filled my stomach with meals instead of anxiety
Today I breathed
Today I sighed
Today I did what most consider to be routine, but is so much more to me
All of these simplicities are proof of surviving
Doing so is not always easy
But I do
Today I lived even if I did so quietly
Today I am alive
And tomorrow I will be as well
Tomorrow I will say thank you to today
Tomorrow I will appreciate the effort of before
Tomorrow I will be too proud for too little
Tomorrow I will repeat
Tomorrow I will try again
Tomorrow I am human.

The hardest battle of all
Is the one you fight with yourself
The hardest battle to overcome
Is the one that nobody can see
But you
The worst enemy
Is the dull ache dwelling underneath a bright smile
One that has the capacity
To make millions laugh
One that succeeds
In doing so
But happiness is not always gained
In knowing the number of lives impacted by yours
Happiness is not defined
By the amount of people who love you
Crowded rooms are not saviour from drowning
And opens arms cannot always catch the falling
There is no guide
On how to wrestle your demons
And there is no clear solution
On how to win
Often times you will end up pinned to the ground
And finding the strength to pull yourself up
Can be more than just a challenge
Depression
Is the cold war
That nobody talks about
The one they forget to mention in school
We skip over it in text books and discussions
Assuming that if we forget its existence
It will vanish completely
But the only outcome of a closed mouth and stigma
Is our own disappearance
And it will never be romantic
To watch our loved ones fade
Because they couldn't figure out
How to love themselves
Enough to stay
It will never be desirable
To turn to dust under bright lights
While the whole world watches in awe
Depression
Is not something that can just be cured
With chemicals and someone to listen
It is a constant struggle
Of living in an empty mansion
Filled with hallways of locked doors
And spending every day of your life trying to find a way out
Depression
Is living in your body
But feeling like your wearing someone elses skin
Is watching excitement happen
But being unable to touch it
To taste it
Depression
Tastes of kerosene and ethanol
And every missed step
Every small conflict
Is a lit match
Thrown into the pit of your stomach
Depression
Is unapologetic
It will take everyone you love
And turn them into monster
Will take your reflection
And turn it into ugly
Depression
Will chew with sharp teeth
Then spit you out to an unforgiving world
In crooked pieces
There is no easy way
To put yourself back together
There is no easy way
To tell who is coming apart at the seams
And even the softest of souls
Can fall victim to their sadness
Some will relent to belt and door frame
To knot and heavy wrists
But the battle does not have to end ******
The battle does not have to end in regret
In what should have been done
In what could have been prevented
This battle
Is not going to cease
Without a fair fight
And although the one you take on with yourself
May be the hardest one ever fought
Do not give in
Do not give up
Even when your bones are purple from bruise
And your skin is ripped from sharpness
Do not yield to disaster
Do not succumb to darkness
Do not surrender
There is someone
Who will miss you
Do not forfeit
For this battle
Is not through
And your story
Is not over
Yet.

Learning to love my body is like trying to get comfortable in a rental home; no matter how often I rearrange things to look differently, it still doesn’t feel like my own.

Dear depression,
When did you become pretty?
For as long as I have known you
You have never been anything more than
Thorns on sticks thrown in my way
And sharp rocks underneath my bare feet after I have built up the courage to walk alone
At times you have left me ****** with
Bruises and scars that wrap around my body like barbed wire
You have never been anything more than a metal fence amidst a beautiful garden
You have never been anything more
Than ugly
So I wonder who
Could have possibly thought you worthy enough
To place you on a pedestal
And paint makeup on a face that has damaged so many
I wonder how
Someone
Somewhere
Thought you good enough
To make you into a novel
When you are anything but romantic
How anyone
Could ever find you desirable enough
To want to take you on a date
When all you do is lurk in the shadows behind lovers
You are nothing but
Unwanted
So whoever it is that decided
That you deserve a spotlight
When all you've ever done is inflict darkness
Clearly
Has never met you
Dear depression
Society might have made you feel pretty
But one thing I can promise
Is that you will never be
Prettier than me.

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 human body
Regenerates completely new skin cells
Approximately every
27 days
I say this knowing
That I am someone
Your hands have never gotten to know
My skin has mourned the loss of your touch
Grieved for the freckles that never got to know your warmth
No memorization of the path your fingertips took while
Tracing the lines of my skin
I am a whole new person
Since you've last held me
My body
Is not the only thing that has changed
Crazy how
So much can differ
From the last time
You knew me
But today
You don't
It only took 27 days for me to become someone else
I am someone else now
My limbs can attest to that
They no longer crave to be cradled by your arms
You do not know me
And it only took 27 days for me to realize
That I
Never really knew you
At all.

While standing in the line to get inside,
the rain makes a surprise appearance
this may be one of the few time I don't mind it

I remember the first tuesday spent here
when my Chicago soul ended up on a Los Angeles street at the recommendation of a new friend and then
somehow ended up on stage

I don't recall details like I should but
the eager racing of my heart every time I walk through the door speaks volumes, says I know why you feel the way you do
that moment of hearing myself speak for the first time is still new

on the nights like this where I don't read
I still feel an energy that reminds me of a certain comfort
my hands still shake through the excitement of just existing

my stomach, a drain of stories, was used to swallowing whole without chewing
this is where I learned how to digest my past

I trade smiles with strangers who are just realizing their ability to do the same

if you were to ask anyone who has ever sat on this stage, in these seats, why they choose to join this cluttered convention of hearts in such a small space,
they would probably pause,
smile and answer something along the crooked lines of,
"you just have to be there to understand"

and you do
there is a magic in the air that you can't bottle
instead you hold your breath through a busy week to
make it to the next
in order to experience it again

there is no language that could describe this place where
we each speak our own yet somehow
still understand each other
this is the place I cannot put an adjective to,
there is no metaphor for what experience can offer

this is the place where my cheeks turn fire in the best way possible
the rhythm of my chest is faster than it is in fear, unexplainable

this is where my tuesday night becomes weekend
this is where my empty becomes whole
this is where Yesika forms full moons with her words and the softness of her voice echoes against the hollow of the theatre lights
this is where the power of black stories remind my whiteness how necessary vocality is
this is where I found myself bare under a spotlight for the first time over a year ago and
this is where I discovered that bareness doesn't have to be a bad thing

I know how it sounds
sitting on a stage in a dim room with strangers
listening for an hour and a half to a story that isn't yours but
the best way to find yourself is in the words of another
this is where I find myself
again and again
this is where I come whenever I am lost

If you were to ask me why
I could only say

you just have to be there
to understand.

Nature doesn't let
Cement stop it
From growing
It still manages
To peek out
Through sidewalks
And concrete
Nature doesn't let
Anything stop it
From exisiting

So tell me,
What's your excuse?

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.

A messy heart of clutter and loose change and lone socks,
I am a ceremony of disappearing objects.

I am cleansing myself
Ridding my body of toxins
So that the next time
I open my mouth
You wont spill out of it.

His laugh, a summer carnival, spinning rides that make our stomachs do the same, cheeks kissed soft rose by blush of winter air, hands dyed permanent blue from weather, the absence of circulation, rough palms but soft touch, a red nose when seasons change, the outline of muscle pushing through skin, hair pale from the sun, and too much patience, always

My silk sewn blanket from childhood tucked into bed with me every night

The dog with a slobbering mouth and a human-like smile

The German Shepard with a grizzling bark mistaken for violent

He tells me,
"I don't wanna love somebody else"
He says,
"I don't know how to"

The copper guitar pick, the candle we dip wax fingers in, the Polaroid print from an angry night out, my crumpled side of the sheets

I grab the back of my neck like the hold of it will keep me grounded
I bite my lip until it bleeds for a sense of familiar pulling

In between the pages of a dust-covered book, kept quietly on a shelf,
This,
is where I hide love.


I am piling these moments like unread obituaries, unnoticed loss to someday be recovered
Maybe these deaths were never written down to begin with

Off somewhere in mountains, a place I could not pinpoint on a map, the outline is as faded as time has swallowed us whole

I still sleep wrapped up in childhood but the nightlight is missing now

A grave by a train track holds the body of the animal that grew up with me

I am no longer fearful, but understanding of creatures and the sounds they make, unknowingly

These words are lingering on a lightless street beneath the tree that holds all of our secrets, there is no place else for them to breathe open

Mementos of months without marking, I am thankful for not keeping track

When anxiety asks to speak to me,
I dig fingernails on thick skin above ink
I place a lip between teeth and
press down slightly

I tuck all of this away in a new home, miles from origin, path drawn like dots connected, it sits quietly on a shelf waiting

This is where I hide love for
If I ever go to look for it
Again

Like the world is flooding and I've forgotten how to swim
The concrete has become cactus shell against bare feet and all of my shoes have suddenly disappeared
Everything I chew on instantly becomes broken glass
Water swallows like acid
The drawers don't shut, even when empty
The shower wont stop dripping in rhythmic taunting, keeping me awake at night
My teeth turn to sand every time they meet
The only thing I can taste is blood
All attempts at language come out in hiccups
I am walking with fifty pound dead weights as legs
My stomach is in my mouth
My mouth is a room without a door
My tongue is the elephant in it
There are children screaming on every corner
The pavement is too slippery for steady movement
At all hours of the day my alarm clock plays in the background
Hair is forming bird nest piles on my desk
My umbrella breaks when it's raining
There are tightening hands around my swollen neck
The memory of how to breathe is fading in my head,
I can't remember how to use these lungs of mine, their function has reached its limit
When did the ground below me start shifting, and
How can I make it stop?

I could be sober with you
and I don't mean that lightly
I could stay up the entire night with you holding me, forgetting all surroundings, distractions
I'd watch the anxiety roll off my body into your hands as you set it aside gently
You always seem to know how
to mold my discomfort into feeling safe
And I know I am

I could be happy with you
And I don't often think that with others
But your body is a home I'd like to call my own
I can see a full row of sunflowers blooming on our energy only
We could grow gardens from the glow of our touching

I could be wide-awake with you
And I don't say that frequently
I would **** every ounce of life out of my body to give to you
I'd stay up till morning watching the sunrise, listening to the back alley voices outside my window
I'd sacrifice an entire night of sleep just to hear you speak

I could listen to you for hours
Your words, your voice, your melodies
You are a song on repeat I know I could never stop liking
You've taken over my mind and it's a problem I don't mind having

I'm an addict for people, for hearts, for intimacy, for touch and
You are exactly what I could thrive on
I would empty a bottle of wine for lack of necessity
I could drown in your skin,
Feed off your lips,
Your laugh,

I am full on just being here
There is no need for substance
I could easily be drunk on you
and
only you

You say you want romance
That you want it all painted out

You tell me you crave
Something beautiful
Vivid enough
For you to be able to stare
At it all day
And never lose interest

Well I'm not much of an artist
But I think I could be for you

I could draw in the features
Fill in the details
And color by number
Every single part of the picture
It might take me a while
But I've got time

My hands are unsteady
So forgive me if some lines
Are a bit uneven
I cannot promise you perfection
But I can try my best

I would take the steps to learn
How to capture passion
On a simple piece of paper
I would train myself in the talent
So that one day I could create
With a level of skill
Superior to others

See I am not much of an artist
But for you I would be
So I could paint the romance
That you want so badly

I am not much of an artist
But for you I would be
So I could paint you that image,
The one you've always wanted
And put both of us in it.

A guy who
only cares when
he's inside

When will you learn
to stop opening the door
for people like
that?

How is it that you can be
Loved by so many people,
And still not love yourself?

What I would give
To wake up next to you
Bodies tangled vines
Legs wrapping around backbone
Skin stained from the previous night's hunger
From eager lips
What I would give
To have you run fingers down my xylophone ribs
Every morning
Play me into routine
Sing each note that leaves my lips
Each breathless hello
Each half whispered stay
Each please don't go
What I would give
To know the exact shape of your palms
Have them folded into memory
Making home in the dimples of my back
In the curve of my spine
Not allowing for goodbye
Reading only welcome
What I would give
To run hands through your hair
Through the saltwater aftermath
Through sand dusted in from the wind
From a day spent in beach sun
What I would give
To bury myself in the vacant parts of you
And never leave
What I would give
To fall asleep next to your mumbling
Next to your 3am curiosity
With your breath against my ear
And toes weaved together like the silk from our bedsheets
What I would give
Is not enough to shrink the space between us
Is not enough to turn distance into nonexistence
But boy,
What I would give
To have you next to me

I would give everything from the arch of my soles
To my abundance of freckles
To be with you

In order to be with you
I would give
All of me.

One.

It has been
Two years
Or maybe three
Since I knew you last
I can still taste the bitter
In the back of my mouth

We were in the same city
But your heart was somewhere else
With someone else
I think I knew it
To begin with
But didn't want to believe it

Two.

Colorado was your home
I was a Midwest rental
With a twenty-four hour vacancy
A place for you to reside
Only when convenient

You came back that summer
With more baggage
Than I could hold
I tried my best to carry it for you
I couldn't
My arms have always been
Weak
My knees weaker

Three.

I was
Desperate for affection
You gave me little of it
But it was just the right amount
To be able to stretch into lasting

I held on to your hand
Tightly
You held on to mine
Like you were hoping
To drop it
Like you wouldn’t mind
If you did

Four.

You had multiple pet rats
I said I didn’t mind them
I lied

Five.

Your dog loved me
More than you did

Six.

Your couch was uncomfortable
I slept on it anyway
I wanted to be
As close to you
As humanly possible

Seven.

We never made love
In your bed

Eight.

You didn't know how
To say no to anyone
Especially me
Instead
You said nothing

Nine.

You were easily
Taken advantage of

Ten.

I took care of you
While you took care of
Everyone else

Eleven.

I was sixteen when I met you
I don't remember how

Twelve.

You took
Everything I had
With greedy hands
And still managed
To call yourself selfless

I would have stripped
My skin raw
Just for you to have something
To keep you warm in the wintertime

You left
Before September even arrived

That August
Was the coldest
Of all twelve months

These are the things
I am recovering just now
Things I can only recall
At odd hours of the night
When I am laying in bed

These are the things
I don’t remember well
But I remember them
Enough to make myself ache

I remember you
Enough to feel the swelling
Of what it feels like
To give too much of yourself
Away

I remember you
I still do

I hope you remember me too.

Laying on his chest pretending it's home
Interpreting his lips against to mean more than just tonight
Kissing back like it means hope for tomorrow
Letting his sweat sink into you with the reality of what this is
This is temporary
This is only now
This is make-believe passion
This is fading ink stain
This is it doesn't matter how good you look
This is it doesn’t’ matter how good you are
This is he doesn't care
This is he wont call back
This is twisting lust into love when it is not even close and you can't say you didn't see it coming when it does because it happens every time you spend a night with a new him

You are trying to fill the void of old
You are trying to build future out of dust
There is no room for love to blossom in drought and that is exactly what this is
This pretending is a dehydrated sky crying for rain and
There is no home to be built here
His chest is not yours to call it
His lips only translate to right now
Kissing back will not extend the time
And his sweat mixed with yours is nothing more than an ocean
Be careful not to drown
He will not save you.

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 colored you into an image so bright that I could see you even with eyes closed. I painted you loud enough for the noise to keep me up at night. I made you into something you were not; a masterpiece.