Blow out the last smoke
Your heel on the cigarette,
Crush it; take a swig
Squeezing lemons on pearly white teeth
One more for brokenness, another for the road;
Lights. Lights. Lights.
–how is a place so blindingly bright
remain so dark, so void, out of life?

We traded this life from another
And traded those from another, too.
Gypsies. Indies. Crazies. Hipsters.
All of them, labels.
We (You) are far better.

There’s something ugly in whispers.
Oh but not those from you.
Not from you.
The line between escape and reality
Is just a line, really.
Come over. Here?
Come closer. There?
Yes, please.

We are nothing but fitting hands, loose shirts,
summer evening sweats, blisters
chain smokes, vivid lights,
My eyes never leaving the sight of your smile.

Come closer. More. Nearer.
Be in my blood. Cover my skin.
Run through the inhale and exhale of my lungs.
This never ending thing going?
God****, it’s enough.

I see lighter skin under your short sleeves; and your cut off jeans, fraying at the seams.

There's a trail of sweat from your temple to your neck; but your eyes dance without regrets.

It was all sun, sun, sun and rain. It was all dance, dance, dance and no pain.

Time is with us. No, time is us. We are never ending. We are infinitely flying;

You are holding my hand; you are pulling me, and

We are falling apart, but with all of our hearts.

Memory dreams. Multiverse.
Tell me we exist
in a parallel universe.

Fast forward to
a few years later and
you'll suddenly hear
he's getting married.

The emotions you've been
suppressing in
your almost-hollow chest
will all resurface
and you will want
to do something you know
you should've done before.

But you won't do it.
You will cry it out, instead.
He might invite you.
And you will take that
perfect opportunity
to flee.

Just like what you have done
rewind to a few years before
and have been doing
since.

You've been picking
even-numbered petals
from flowers all these time
because you thought
the odds won't be against you.

When nature shows you a sign,
it is most likely to be
a. True b. False
Whatever it is,
Do not pretend you're blind.
Take another look.
Read between the lines.

A dozen wildflowers
is still an even number.
He only means to tell you:
this won't last forever.

Decayed and dead after a week.
Cryptic love is cryptic.
Like is not love, haven't you heard?
Haven't you looked at the flowers?

When the sun has set
and your eyes are tired,
the empty space in your chest,
in your mind, in your bed.
Hollow that was once filled,
his love was beguiled.

Dear Sir,

Should I go make myself visible--too visible in your eyes? I could pour over my brother's notes and raise my hand to every question you have just to have your eyes at me.

Was that too desperate? Should I play dumb and ask you for extra lessons outside of class? I could stand quiet corner coffee shops, away from prying eyes. I'll even discard the uniform. And you can get to wear that awful tie. That's what they call a "Win-Win Scenario" in Sales, right?

I could strike every corny joke in the block, make pick-up lines, even sing off key to make you see that I'm not such a student-y student.

I could be your friend! I could be your best student. I could be your favorite--I'll try extra harder! I could be your girl. I could be your coffee buddy, your official class manager/monitor, the very person you assign extra notes to be passed on. I'll volunteer on every project you have your hands into---

I want to be yours. In every possible single way. We could hustle and bustle in shadows of people who couldn't understand; I'll get you more weird looking ties for the weekend.  I could type your exams in exchange for extra tutoring; we'll hold each others hands until this winter melts to spring.

Because I swear, when your eyes met mine; when your lips told me "I'll see you again, next time."; I knew I needed you. It's time to make you need me, too.

The cold festive wind blew;
Laughters, hollers of "Merry Christmas!"
Came along with the breeze.
Children, with their little toy drums
Bang, bang, banging away;
Choruses of "Gloria In Excelsis Deo";
Pine trees, Snow flakes, deformed Snowmen;

Houses are lined with
Blink, blink, blinking
Colorful lights and wreaths;
Somwhere among them,
in some living room,
"All I Want For Christmas" is on loop;
Cookies are laid for Santa Claus;
Presents are stacked
Under the Christmas tree--
With garlands and *****
And--

The Christmas lights
In a room in the middle of a second storey house,
Were shining as brightly as they could,
Being wrapped around the neck
Of a teenager misunderstood,
Hanging lifeless on the ceiling
With a note pinned that read,
"Happy Christmas from the dead."

When I think of the ocean,
I think of the word "drown".
When I hear the word plane,
I see "crash".
When I'm on rooftops,
I feel, "fall".
When I see sharp things,
I hear, "stab".

Birds might peck me.
Cars might hit me down the road.
Metals can conduct electricity.
Words can betray people.
Actions will ****.

Dark corners reminded me
Of shadows and demons
That I keep;
My closet holds more
Skeletons than I could count;
I can't help thinking
We are going to end.
So when you keep saying you love me,
All I'm really hearing was "destroy".

I.
The first time I tasted alcohol, I thought that it reminded me of you and how it burned my throat and left a firy tang on my tongue that can only be resolved by drinking more.

And by the end of the night, I was drunk enough to be aware of nothing but you.

II.
But on days I crave awakeness, you reminded of me caffeine. Wherein just the mere mention of your name shoots up my nerves; awakes my brain, keeping me alive, tingling and insane.

And by every wake of dawn, I only know that I am craving nothing but you.

III.
Oh but **** it. Be what you want to be. **** my senses, wake it; either way, I know I'll be ******.

Because either way, my love, all I really wanted was to drink you up.

I'm not trying to romanticize something that is not there. The truth is, I don't even remember half of the conversations we had. I don't recall the feeling that came along when I'm talking to you. Was I happy? Was I sad? Did I even feel something? But then there's this space thudding in my chest, forming in my gut and it says that I miss you. I don't know why. I don't know how. I just do. It just seems like the missing puzzle piece in me is screaming. And it's screaming you.

I wanted to move on, too.
We both have been there, haven't we?
Got out hearts dropped, stomped on.
I know we're both afraid but
You know I know you see it, too.
Go on, don't be scared.
You get the gasoline,
I'll grab the matches.
Start the fire and
"All you there!
See us burn."

I am no longer the
Steady thrum of heartbeats
When issues against women are
Comically displayed on televisions.
Like there's something to
Laugh, guffaw, snicker, snort--
Tell you what, I can name a little
Too many synonymous words
And I can slap them all to your face, too.

I am no longer a suppressed voice,
Unable to tell you and all the other people
That as a girl (and a woman, later),
I have the right to be here.
I have the same rights to life,
To be alive, to be secure,
To have a good life!
And yet, you, who calls yourself a
Man of power, tells me,
"You are nothing."

I am angry with the absurdity
Of it all. Men continuing to abuse,
Women constantly cowering down--
Why are you so intent on showing power
When you are not God?
Why are you so afraid of fighting
For yourself?

I am seething with rage
For those who refuse to accept
Feminism just for the reason
That they do not want to be labeled--
Well, guess what? They have already
Shoved you underneath Weak and Submissive.
Who taught you that you are born
To impress men?
Who taught you that you only exist
To please them?

I will not have any of that ****.
I am a person of my own.
I am a human being, with rights.
And I AM FIGHTING to have
The same rights as you do.
Whoever told you that that's
Never gonna happen, can shove it up
Their *****.

I will not sit still on my chair while
The next police officer
Asks "Well, what were you wearing?"
To the next **** victim.
You and I both know that is not
The issue here.
No girl should hung their head in shame
That they got touched without consent.
It's not their fault! No one
Deserves to be *****.
And no, it's not snuggling, for you who
Even thought **** jokes on t-shirts
Are funny. It's not.

I am for Gender Equality.
For both men and women,
Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender,
To be treated with equal respect.
With equal opportunities.
With equality.
With no judgment.
Why must you counter that?

Look, I've been sitting in that same chair
For too long while issues spread and get
Larger like the plague.
I thought, let them handle it.
I thought, a small voice would be of no help.
But when did sitting down and staring
Get people somewhere?
When did any of passivity help us?

We already have everything to lose
So why not fight?
Bruce Banner told the other avengers
The secret of Hulk.
And I tell you the same:
Get angry.
Smash inequality.
I will always be right behind you.

What stands between us is time.
Schedules, plans, events--
Every second, every minute, every hour
We are travelling apart.
I think of you when my time is
No longer occupied
But isn't it that I'm supposed to
Think of you all the time?

What stands between us is distance.
You are a hundred miles above sea level
And I am already drowning below.
By time you jump off the sea to save me,
(Will you? Will you?)
The ocean has already wrapped its arms
Around me and yet they say,
Distance does not matter.

What stands between us is fear.
I say to the mirror,
I love you.
I say to the mirror,
But I'm afraid we're not working out.

What stands between us is them.
A girl smiles, a guy winks.
That lab partner has accidentally
Brushed your arm,
And he held my stare for too long.
"You know he'll eventually find someone there, right?"
"You know someone will eventually whisk her away, right?"
Eventually. Like we cannot do anything about it.
(We can, though.)

What stands between us is us.
You grin back, I blushed.
Our world was filled with only two pairs of eyes.
Our separate worlds is now invaded with too many.
That hole in our gut that says 'I miss you.'
Has been ignored too often
We mistake it for stress.
We mistake it for something else.
We mistake.

(We can do something
But the thing here is
We probably won't.)

Sitting on the empty stair steps,
Pouring over a thousand of terminologies
In highlighted photocopies of this thick,
Hi.

I know how quiet it is there,
Away from the buzzing sounds
Of the other students in the room.
I know how you have to
Focus, focus, focus
So you chose the spot,
[Maybe absentmindedly? Maybe not?
(Sometimes I wanted to walk straight to you and ask)]
Trying to rack your brains
On what you crammed into it last night.
I know you.
That’s what I’m trying to say.

I know you, not fully, not totally, never enough
And maybe that’s a shame
Or maybe that’s okay
But I see you
More often than not
(It’s not destiny nor fate—just timing and space.)
And I see myself, somehow,
In you that when I pass by, whether up the stairs
Or down,
I can’t help but throw
One last glance,
One last look.
It’s a vague mirror.

I’ve seen the smiles you gave people:
The polite-hello smile,
The you’re-my-friend smile,
The I-know-you-but-I’m-not-sure smile (etc.).
I’ve seen how you walk over the cold tiled floor
Like you can take the world,
Although more humbly and
Without much cruelty.

I’ve seen the happiness in your smile
When people throw you
The look of recognition:
They know you.
You’re the smart one.
You’re the scholar.
You’re the overachiever.
You’re the nice, all-around guy.
You’re  basically, the best.

But I’ve also seen
The split-second of the tiresome day
Weighing down on your eyes.
I’ve seen you stare off space,
Looking like you wanted to run away.
I’ve seen the pressure on your
Blank face for only a second, a minute
That your mask gave away.

I want to tell you something.
I want to tell you the things I can’t tell myself.
I want to tell you the things I wanted to hear
When things spin too fast out of my hand.
I want to tell you, I know.
I want to tell you that sometimes,
It gets low.

And when it gets low
(Because it will get low and I know and I’m sorry),
Hold on, okay?

HOLD ON.

I know you don’t know me
Just as I don’t know you fully
But promise me something, okay?
Promise me, a nameless person,
Speaking to you through a
Typed message on paper,
That you’ll hold on through
The current that’s passing too strong, too fast.
That you’ll move on forward
When it gets haywire and foggy and weird.

Because
I see myself in you,
(Although somewhat lesser)
But unlike me, I know
One day,
You are going to be great.

So hold on,
Move on,
Go straight through
Because if you’ve reached the
Lowest point in your life
And no one puts their faith on you,
Forget them.

Forget them because
This nameless person right here
Knows the truth.

I believe in you
And I hope
You’ll believe in me, too.

Time is falling dead
and everyone has flies
for an attention span;
the need to get out
throbs painfully
in every still-breathing chest
and
get out of there, will you?
Go.
Run.
Flee.

Talk to your heart
and ask it where it wants to go.
If it tells you to go to him,
don't.
Stall.
Stall long enough for
your heart to ache.
Then go.

Grab him by the pulse
and run.
If he hesitates,
let go.
If he asks you where
you're going,
say, the stars.
Say, the planets.
Say, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

Hope with all your heart
that he changes his mind
and grabs you, instead
and takes you there
himself.

Question: If you look back at your life from this point, what do you see?

Answer: I see the constant struggle of figuring out who I am; the many successful attempts at please people; instant coffees; notebooks I didn't finish; the wish to reach the point where everything is better; the need to run away but can't; waiting, waiting, waiting.

Started with the tenth,
Ended with the twenty-fifth.
I am little red
And I’m looking at your pearly teeth.

How did I get so lost in the woods?
How did I get so lost in you?
You already ate half my heart
(Like the bread in my basket)You split it into two.

And I’m bleeding,
Dripping trails of blood,
I wasn't supposed to be here
I wasn't sure how I got.

My mother warned me
About the strangers in the woods:
Keep your eyes on the bread crumbs
Tighten your red, red hood.

The warlock healed me with his magic hands,
The huntsman vowed to avenge me,
The baker fed me with comfort,
The knight struck his shining sword valiantly.

Grandma said, ‘Forget the amber eyes, the deep voice, the untrue.’
‘Your true options stand before you.’
Yet why in the world (in the galaxy, in the stars)
Do I still choose you (who broke my heart)?

and all i want is
just a quarter of time,
       a quarter of feelings,
       a quarter of smile.

       a quarter of recognition
from your deep blue eyes;
       a quarter of look
that says 'hey you. be mine.'

       a quarter of space
in your beautiful heart;
       a quarter of second
in your passing thought.

i don't ask for a lot because
i know you can't give all you got.
so really, i'm okay with a quarter
i'm sure it's better than never.

Cut my veins open:
Go on, Bleed me dry.
I want you out—
I want you out of veins tonight.

I am going to drain
you out of my system
which hasn’t been functioning for
so long, too long.

You no longer keep me alive.

You are poison and
you are going to get my
heart clogged; my
brain dead;

I am going to burst
I am going to die
I am going to get you out
of my life tonight.

In my Anatomy class, they said, "The lips has the most nerve endings.";
That should explain how brutal my feelings were under that flickering lamp post.

At 6:45 am, right before my first class, I spot the Cappuccino in can at a convenience store;
I always buy this simply because you first bought this for me.

At the bus, I find seats right by the window;
I tie my hair and miss the way you would tie it for me.

The new Coldplay song plays, "And you're always in my, always in my head...";
It has been on repeat for the whole night.

A guy in denim and messy hair walks by twice, thrice;
By the fourth time, he has your face.

And in a desk, I found your name faintly carved;
I retraced it heavily. Over and over again.

I have always wondered
about how people in love
folded themselves
upon each other
that  it doesn't feel difficult
for them
nor suggest difficulty
to other people's eyes
until now
when you placed
your chin upon
my shoulder with ease;
now
when you hugged me
from behind,
your warmth radiating over
my body and reaching
my cold, cold heart;
now
when you started
whispering
over and over words
that used to
not mean anything to me;
I know now
how everything seems--
sees, hears, smells, tastes and feels--
easy and God, just wonderful
to  have someone
to fold yourself
upon.

I still love the rain. (Just as I still know I loved you.)

You weren't meant to stay longer, my love, my rain. Because if you did, we would have drowned the entire existence with drastic floods.

I will
Still remember you
As the rain
My eyes, my heart, my brain
Poured out.
(Leaving me empty
And dry.)

It seems that our love is like the rain. It will pour hard, unleashing all the contained energy. Then it will pour harder, letting it all go, consuming our very being. And eventually, it will stop. Leaving nothing but the aftermath of us which will dry soon enough. Looking like nothing even happened.

I made a mistake. We are nothing but drizzles.

We are not the ******* first summer rain, anymore. When heated water vapor condenses and unstable airs break through, we are now as dangerous as thunderstorms, cracking and flashing and desperately wanting to burn the whole sky down.

Ever since you told me that you think of me every time it rains,
I've been smiling like an idiot and staring into space.

I've never seen anyone as in love with the rain as I am
and my parents have never seen me smile the way that I am
smiling right now.

Oh but what kind of rain could we be?
Light as drizzles?
Heavy as hurricanes?
Sizzling as thunderstorms?
Dangerous as typhoons?

Are we
the continuous rain of an August night?
The melted snow of Winter transitioning
into Spring?

I know! We are the first Summer rain. Cool and refreshing.
The rain that makes you rush out of the house and into the grey, grey skies.
The rain you've been wishing for after a long warm night.
The rain that you want to stay under until it dries.
The rain you want to savor for the rest of your life.

Stay a little longer, will you?

I think you gave me
too many signals
and I just
blinked
right through them.

I had a dream about you last night. You sent me an e-mail about not caring about anything anymore. But me. You told me that you know that saying you love me is cliche' but you said you love me, anyway.

You have no idea how that e-mail made me happy. I remembered hugging my laptop from the dream. I read your e-mail until I knew it by heart but even in my subconscious dream I know it won't be enough.

So can you imagine the frustration and sadness and patheticness I felt when I woke up?

I should never wake up, again.

though blurry
I see you clearly
under lidded eyes
is that such a surprise?

and your eyes half-closed
you lashes grows;
inch closer
i see further and further

------i am drowning
but why is that a good thing?
i still see you with my eyes closed

                       (**** the distance!
                        **** the cold!
                        no to resistance!
                        just be bold!)

oh dear, I am overdosed.

"Decorate
Yourself
With
Flowers"--they say;
"It might make you okay."
But the only decoration
I want is your
name
whether
tattooed in vain or
scratched in pain.

because when i hear this particular song you had told me about once, i still think of you. because i still check your blog even if i know you haven't updated it in two years. because i wait out for you to go online in facebook at our time and i wait until 3 am just to make sure. because i saw you sitting in 7eleven once and now i crane my neck to look at 7eleven just to check if you're there. because i still write your initials and scratch them heavily. because when i hear a song you'd like, i write it down and compile it to a mix. because when i drink coffee, it makes me think of you. because i bought these kiddie pirate tattoos and posted a picture of it to see if you'll like it. because every post i make wishes to get a like from you. because i want to go to where you are even if it's a five-hour bus ride away just to take a glimpse of your face. because i read the books you read. because i'm running out of reasons here. *i'm still in love with you. and that's mainly the reason why.

I'm in love with you.






(And that's why I am trying to come up with 101 ways
to **** you and make you suffer over and over again
through poetry.)

you are like
this
bitter medicine tablet
that I keep
trying to
swallow
but keeps
coming
back up.

the clanging when the gates open
as the dogs bark, shut the gate only to hear rusty
metal screech rusty metal, i think
i am home

gravel crunch under my shoes, crunch, crunch
to open the screenless screen door, push
aside the heavy sliding second door, i think
i am home

walk into the canary room with its rich
maroon-tiled floor, turn right for the stairs, leave your
shoes before you go 10 steps up, i think
i am home

another door is wide open, smell the waft of dog-shampoo,
dog burst through, get slapped on the shins with its heavy wagging
tail and invites you the the dark green couch, i think
i am home

walk on the wooden floor as the bookshelves rattle
when i pass by, rattle, rattle, leave my bag on the chair, reach the fridge,
look for food and sit on the polished yellow table, i think
i am home

the last room and its rich dark brown door, with its
antique bed: lay down, contemplate, count the squares above it--48
blink, open another door to the balcony, graze the cold cement, i think
i am home

look into the backyard with patches of dead grass, inhale oxygen,
exhale sadness, go back inside and smile, finally, i think
i am home

as i smell that unique scent of mom in the bathroom, see the table
dad made from ply woods, sort my sister's things, smile at my brother's grad picture,
sit with the dog on the couch, scratch its ears, i know
i am home

midnight strikes, detach from the computer, rub tired eyes, brush my
teeth on the blue-tiled sink, reach the orange door quietly, take one last glance on
the mirror and enter the capiz faux-door of the bedroom we all share, hear
all of your soft snores and shufflings under the blanket,
collapse on the bed, this is it.
i am home.

you come
and
you go
and
you come
and
you go
and
you come
and
I'm sorry,
but who are you
again?

"I'm not the one who needs saving!"
--in many ways
you
are
right.
Because
I am
the
one
who
needs
to
be
saved.

but then darling,
sometimes the people are
beautiful, too
—just their ability to
comprehend,
believe
and oh! love
until it breaks and shatters them
but still
recover from it
and stand—
they are deeply
fascinating.

It
Might seem like
This could be
An end
To the greatest adventure
Of my life
But every good
Thing knows
It’s actually
The beginning.

‘So stay.’ I am really
Trying not to spill down
Water from my eyes
If you decline.
‘Stay and we’ll talk.
Stay and we’ll eat Cheerio’s
And Fruit Loops with or
Without milk—just stay.’
‘Are you trying to convince me?’
‘Are you convinced?’
‘You don’t have to. I’m always
In-yes with you.’
Front porch wood creaking.
Door closing.
Front porch light switching off.

‘This night/morning doesn’t have to end,’
Car door opening, car door closing
‘Unless we want it to,’
‘Do you want it to?’
Blinking eyes, bitten lips
*‘No. No, in every possible way.’

So we were back
To laughing as we
Drove home.
Home. I remember something
I read, “Is it possible for home
To be a person and not a place?”
It hadn’t meant much back then
But as you tell me
The truth about
How you’re actually cousins with
The one who owns the Carnival;
How you think that this
Is just the best five hours
Of your life;
How we should do this
Next time or every time,
Every day or every night;
I wanted you
To be my home
Because I have
Never felt at home in my
Entire life than
When I’m with
You.

‘Sunrise.’* You breathe out
As the sky swirls
Its majestic colors
Of blue, orange, yellow, pink
‘It’s always lovely isn’t it?’
‘It’s one of the lovely
And lonely things,’ I sigh.
I’m sorry that
I just can’t help
Myself sometimes
On seeing the sad in
Beautiful, beautiful things.
I know you said
That it’s because I’m doubtful
But then, no.
Some things are just that.
Flawed.
We just fail to see
Past its beautiful exterior.
‘What could be possibly lonely
About the sunrise?’
You inquire (and
I love that you would want to
Hear some explanation I have).
‘Hope,’ I called out
‘Doesn’t it symbolize hope?
Doesn’t it sprays out the message
Of a new beginning?
As if you can undo all the
Wrong things—but you can’t.
Hope breeds eternal misery,
Doesn’t it? It’s effing lonely.’
It could be weird but I certainly don’t
See the sunrise as billions of eyes see it.
I had expected you
To give me a look and tell
Me to stop seeing the sadder side,
Goodness knows that what everyone does—
‘Here,’ You reached out your hand
I gave you a strangle look
‘Take it,’ your amused voice floats
‘So we could walk together and
Look like sad gits together and
Ponder on what makes sad things sad.’
But by then I am in no way
Sad, I could the happiest
Person alive.

I took a long glance
At the stars above
The sky as
You drive away.
It was a quarter to six
In the morning and
Our night is
Nearing its end.
This time, we
Drove with a
Blanket of silence
Thrown upon us—
It wasn’t eerie nor
Awkward, it was
The kind of silence that suits
Driving away at 5:49 a.m. to
Goodness-knows-where,
Comfortable and easy
And cool as the cold wind of
The almost-morning dew that
Seeps through the
Half-rolled down window.
I feel like I
Could get used to these
Kinds of moments with you,
Not getting bothered
Of the silence
That ensues between us.
We could be together
With ease
Through laughter
And silence, especially
Because it has always been silence
That is harder to
Bear.
And...
It has always been this way,
Hasn’t it?
It had always
Been this easy
And comforting
To be
With you.

‘I figured out the hamartia,’
I tell you breathlessly.
You were still clutching
Your shirt for breath
(And your cheeks are pink
From the cold)
‘My heart is thumping like crazy,’
‘I know. Mine is, too.’ I grin, for you.
‘That was one hell of a ride’ you wheeze
‘I should puke but I won’t,’
I laugh at the incredulousness
Of your little anxieties
And how you strain them in.
I patted your back as
We took a seat on a bench
And you took your breath
‘You okay?’
You nod. ‘You were saying
About the hamartia?’
I love that you keep
Track of what I’m saying
Even if we wander far away.
‘Right. It’s cotton candy.’
You laugh. ‘Really now?’
‘Sugar just sometimes solves it all,’
You pinched my cheeks
And pulled on it
Playfully
‘Sugar ******’ you teased,
I think you just
Caught me off guard
And I think that
I like it.
‘But tell you what, I know something
Better than stuffing sugar,’
You always seem to be so
Enthusiastic, don’t you?
‘Surprise me,’
I say because
This time
I wouldn’t want
To anticipate.

You wrinkle your nose, No
I laughed. ‘Why?’
‘It’s silly.’
‘Sillier than driving
In the middle of the night
To my house and
Pulling me away
To eat pizza and
Drink milkshakes and
Write poetry in our arms
And sing and scream
And driving into a
Miraculously open
Carnival?’
You rolled your eyes
‘I’d rather do a Holden Caulfield on you,’
Would that mean that
To you
I’m just...Phoebe?
I shot you a sceptical look
And told you that
One ride at a carousel
Won’t taint your
Masculinity.
I sure as hell hoped
That I convinced you because
I don’t want you to be Holden
If I’m just Phoebe,
I’d rather be Jane Gallagher even
If there wasn’t a scene in the book
Written for us.
I know that if I could be Jane,
We could write
Our own **** story
And our story would
Be better.
So please, please, please
Say yes
To going to the carrousel
With me
And we could start writing
Our story as Jane
And Holden.

Eyes blinking, jaw dropping.
I wouldn’t believe it.
‘It’s open,’ I had observed dumbly.
‘It is,’ you agree, grinning at me.
Eyebrows furrowing, mouth opening
‘How the hell is that possible?’
My mind ran into maybe a hundred
Answers for you but
‘It just is.’ You shrugged
Like this was the most common thing
In the world
Like a Carnival is always open
At about five a.m.
But that’s not really what
Bothers me—it’s how the hell
You could have known
That there’s a large space
For Carnivals
In my heart.
‘So.’ You say. I sense a tinge of
Nervousness in your voice.
For the first time in this night
I turned to look at you
And swallow you and just you in.
(It wasn’t enough.)
I still don’t know what to say:
Because “thank you” doesn’t
Seem enough
And if I don’t say anything,
I’m afraid you might mistake it
For something else
I cannot even fathom.
So I just held out my hand,
Hoping that this time
You’ll take it—
Take it and
Don’t.
Let.
It.
Go.

‘It’s four-thirty,’ I say
And I think we both sensed
The dreaded end is nigh
‘It’s four-thirty-one,’you point out
‘Would it be weird to admit that—‘
I stopped. I wanted to admit
A lot of things without sounding weird
‘You don’t want this night to end?
No. Because me, neither.’
I took the chance to glance at you
And smile.
You took the chance to glance off the road
And smile.
‘So where to, next?’
You gave me a knowing grin.
‘You’ll see.’
I puffed out a breath.
‘Come on, wouldn’t you like to be surprised?’
‘I’d rather anticipate.’
‘Oh but where’s the fun in that?’
I just grinned. Because
I want to believe
That you’re right
And I want to believe
That you actually did
Plan something
For me tonight.
‘Eye spy?’ I offered.
You tell me that you spy
Something with light—
Lamppost.
You tell me that you spy
Something that goes on—
Road.
As you go on—
Tree, dashboard, yellow lines, my PJs;
I laugh as I secretly spy on
How the light hits your eyes
As you drive.
(I wonder if you
Could even guess how
Beautiful it is.)

‘Let’s do a Sam, Patrick and Charlie,’
(Do I even have to tell you that
I’m always in-yes with you?)
‘What’s our tunnel song?’
Click. Radio music filling the car.
You tell me over the music that
You don’t want a tunnel song
Because
Why have one song when we
Can have a playlist of it?
Our tunnel playlist starts with:
                                                         01. young blood—the naked and the famous: you’ll keep my secrets
                                                        ­                          hope to die/promise and swear it to the sky.
                                                         02. love somebody—maroon 5: and if I fall for you/ I’ll never recover
                                                         03. lego house—ed sheeran: and I’ll surrender up my heart /
                                                                ­                          and swap it for yours
                                                         04. animal—neon trees: what are you waiting for? / take a bite of my
                                                                ­                           heart tonight
                                                         05. yellow—coldplay: do you know? / you know I love you so
                                                         06. i need you now—lady antebellum: and I wonder if I ever cross  
                                                         ­                                  your mind / for me it happens all the time
                                                         07. lightning—the wanted: how many times do I fly through your
                                                                ­                  headspace / now it’s speeding away from a safe place
I don’t even like half of the songs
The radio played but it was
Perplexing how I find a
Line or two of it
To keep track of
My feelings.
‘Do you see it?’* You gesture at the road.
I recalled that bit of Charlie’s letter.
Omitted bits of it and filled it with some
As lightning—the wanted starts to fade
And another song plays,
‘I like this song,’ I tell you
‘I like it, too.’
and if you only die once/
i wanna die with you
‘Let’***** the notes,’
—fingers drumming on the wheel
I finger snap occasionally.
When the song ended, we have
The same answer for the same question:
‘Do you feel infinite?’