when the rain came,
all was drained from me then
i wore black for days to mourn myself

to those who think they could love me:
tread lightly,
for my ice is thin
in every season

kisses amid incense smoke
and a haze left over
from the pack we finished
in twenty two hours.
i choke on love
and spit up the burning push
to be more than just
an unpublished poet
among billions of
self proclaimed,
unpublished poets.
i’d write him a collection
of anything he would like to read
even if it’s just my blood
smeared from page to page.
oh god i am a poet,
and oh god i am scared.
i swear one day i’ll be
good for him, after my wrists
stop singing songs
i’m sure he’ll be thrilled
to never have to hear again.

i woke up this morning and
my phone told me today was
april 29th
and my first thought was that
today is your birthday
and how you were older than the rest of the class
because you repeated the second grade
it’s funny how i always remember this day
even though we no longer speak
except when i run into you in the college hallways
and the last real conversation we had
was probably in the fifth grade
it’s funny how i remember you
even though i really don’t think about you
and now you are just
a poem i wrote
on your birthday