"Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people."

a poem for you:

roses aren't red
and violets aren't blue
when my entire body
isn't pressed into you


sugar's not sweet
flowers don't grow
what was beautiful crumbles
like an avalanche of snow

birds cry to heaven
to a sky that is black
the clouds full of thunder
rain pounds at my back

I look out the window
at the tortured pained sky
and compare its expression
to how I feel inside

the sun does not shine
the trees do not sway
the cards are not dealt
and no games are played

though dramatic and
blown far out of proportion
I exaggerate in order
to reveal my emotions

roses are still red
violets are still blue
but this is my thinking
in the absence of you


though primitive my wording
and such a sad theme
the meaning is simple:
without you, there's no me

e.s.s.

I rolled you up
Your insight, your beauty
And all the love you had to offer me
I threaded you with American Spirit
And tucked you in an origami wrap

From grass and earth...
To clouds
One hit
And the world went silent

my surface area cannot be calculated with any sort of formula, for I checked and there is no equation for scar tissue.

(e.s.s.)

I once met a boy who put his hand on my thigh as he asked for my name. and upon learning it, pressed his lips to mine. naive and foolish, I believed this to be what the people called "love." and I went willingly.

I once met a boy who told me he loved me the day he met me. he swore it was true. realizing that this must be what the people called "love"
I went willingly

I once met a boy who sang songs out of tune and danced with me in the rain. he played music with dandelion fingers. I was awe-struck. disregarding future pain, I closed my eyes and the door.
and I went willingly.

I once met a boy with broken hands who smelled of cigarettes and regret. he plucked his guitar strings and I imagined them to be straps and ties of my clothing. with each note he played, more of my skin touched the cold air. by the end of his song, I'd written this poem.

(e.s.s.)

The moment I realized I would love you forever, I cried. I wasn't sad and I was not crying tears of joy. I was, however, confused. This was something I have never read about or seen in movies. After the fact, I was ponderous of why I had been succumb to such a state. Why do we cry in the first place. It doesn't provide anything physically helpful to the body. In fact, I felt rather weak and vulnerable. It is in this state that we are most receptive. Our bodies are weakened so that we have no choice but to appreciate life's most beautiful moments...I have come to the conclusion that I must be beautifully in love with you. I will not ever wish to change that.

"Darling,

How is it possible that I could still be loving you more. I just received your letter. I have never met a person that could put pen on paper and nearly bring me to tears...so you must be an angel.

This is one of those times when I have no idea what to say or even if I should say anything at all. I just know that as far as I can remember, I have had a problem with receiving love. I can give it just fine, but never receive it, and while I was reading your letters I found myself fighting back tears for some reason. For the first time I feel redamancy.

and if I were there with you I would kiss you right now and my kiss is different every time because I fall deeper in love with you everyday and there's a difference between a kiss and a kiss between two people that truly love each other.

Often I find that I am digging myself deeper and deeper into this love and I fear that I might not be able to climb out, but upon this bittersweet realization...I begin to dig again, this time with a smile on my face, and pray that there will never be a bottom."