Wandering mazily in an autumn afternoon,
I in the sunlight and he in the shade,
We met by chance,
Somewhere between sun and geography.

I could tell he had something to say,
A song of despair to sing me,
But my Spanish is sadly limited
And his words revolved around me,
Never colliding with my comprehension.

So we did not speak
Except for sighing
Unuttered words suspended heavily
In a green Santiago sky

It is unlikely I would have understood, anyway
The words from his aging lips
No more than fever understands why it burns.

But mis ojos found his,
Civil war of his head,
Exile of his heart,
And I knew.

Without knowing how
Or when
Or from where
Or even what it was I knew.

But I knew.
Yo sé.
And I understood.
Yo conozco.
And we walked.

i am afraid to see you,
because i am afraid you will covet parts of me
that i have cultivated on my own.

the color yellow,
regina spektor and ukeleles, blazers and old dogs.
pieces of you embedded in me.

yours.

but mine are sunny days, and glittery pop music
the way i drive my green car too fast
and my red lipstick

my habit of singing reckless harmonies
to the songs on the radio
going away to college and dyeing all my hair pink.

mine.

i don't want to see you.
because harmonizing with you means losing something that i found on my own, and leaving my red lipstick on your face--and we both know it will come to that-- will only leave my lips pale and wan and you telling me to slow down means that i will never drive alone again and whether you tell me that i should or should not dye my hair and run away i will do the opposite just to spite you and not for the happiness that is finally mine.

and *******, you do not get to galavant back into my life with your
"Happy birthday! <3"
and your
"I'll be in town this weekend, can I see you?"
and run my life again with your manipulative *******
that i learned to absorb into my bloodstream,
or spit back into your face
because i had to get rid of you

i don't want you to know what my new favorite book is.
or about that one movie that i've watched of my own accord more than once
or the song that makes me cry about the future because these things are mine. I do not belong to you anymore and I will never belong to you again so long as my heart is my own and if i have to give up seeing you forever to make that so, then so be it.

i wish playing ukelele didn't remind me of you
i wish the beach didn't remind me of you
i wish fireworks didn't remind me of you
i wish you didn't wear that one cologne that everyone wears because it reminds me of you and i smell you in every wannabe prepster boy that passes me on his way to the pencil sharpener
i wish other girls didn't remind me of you because you're always talking to them but not me
i wish holst suites didn't remind me of you, particularly the first
i wish sunrises didn't remind me of you
i wish late nights didn't make me think of you
i wish the ghost of your skin didn't haunt this entire town
until i am seeing tessellations of your silhouette in the brick walls you pressed me against
i wish i weren't afraid to call you
i wish you'd call me first
i wish that song didn't remind me of you
and by that song i mean that entire folder of songs on my computer,
the one entitled whatever because that is all you were supposed to mean to me
but now, you are more, more than a whatever
and whatever did i have to dream of before i kissed you?
i wish i could sleep
but the morning reminds me of how i'll never wake up next to you

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Let me be honest
I am so freaking tired
I need rest like a Snorlax
And if you don’t get that reference
You were never a 90s kid
Skidding to a stop on route 16 or 12
Wondering what the hell
Was blocking your path
And slipping into “yo momma” jokes
The world over
So I pull my bike to the shoulder
Trying to find the melody
That will remedy my malady
Because it’s the opposite of what you used

See I don’t just need rest
From walking town to town
I need it from you, myself,
And from everyone around
Giving their two cents
Calling it common sense and
Of course I should listen since
My wallet is empty of that currency
While yours is apparently so abundant
That you feel a necessity
To force it upon me as charity

I’m tired of clichés and
Bits of wisdom from authors anonymous
Because I’m telling you I’m not a mess
That can be fixed with your
Two penny potion
Made from your split second emotion
Based upon empathy or sympathy
I can’t quite tell when it comes
To your simply pity
I’m sorry I don’t sound grateful
I know you’re just being helpful
I’m just so freaking tired

Tired of stopping myself
Before even getting started
Because I know
The battles everyday are hard and
I don’t know
That I can make it out
As the champion I need to be
This has been my reality
Stutter stepping from 1 to 2 to 23
So maybe now you see
Why I’m so freaking tired

We
Elegantly juxtaposed
Against the backdrop
Of the stars that obstruct.
The space between you and I
Trembles.