would it really be so bad
if you kissed me
every once in awhile

i know you think about it

i know you miss me

i love you, kitty,
you’re truly my best friend.
you’re getting old,
your time’s coming to its end.
you’re getting weaker, and you’re getting sicker.
your coat’s still soft, though it was once much thicker.
i will miss looking into your green eyes.
i will miss holding you while i cry.
you’ve been there for me, and through it all.
i remember when i got you, in 2009’s warm fall.
you were so beautiful then, the color of pale wheat.
you’re still beautiful now, moseying down the street.
your golden fur shines in the sun.
i’ll never forget all our days of laughs and fun.
your memory will never leave me, you’ll always be by my side.
you’re such a good boy, that cannot he denied.
so in your last years, i’ll treat you extra good.
i’ll give you lots of snacks and pets, just like i should.
i love you, Tommie.

how can you love me
when you put the bottle first
our “family” passes around
hand-me-down bruises
and secondhand insults
most of which stem from you

i long to be like a tree
to shed all my burdens
watch them descend to the ground
below me
shriveled and dead
i am barren of baggage and *******
i am free
i long to be like a tree

if i write a poem about you
you are either
doing something very right
or something very wrong

it is an ache
that does not seem to dull.
you will wonder everything you did wrong.
when you see him around
you will avoid eye contact.
you will still watch him from afar.
suddenly you feel
his arms around you
his chest against yours.
but now he’s nowhere to be found
except in your memories, your imagination,
and your camera roll.
you were once his confidant.
now you are a blocked contact in his phone.
even if you have not crossed paths in months,
he will still cross your mind from time to time.
you remember
his cat.
that awkward thanksgiving dinner at his grandparents’ house.
you remember his new girlfriend.
and then you remember how he said you were the only girl he has ever loved
and would ever be able to.
and you remember his middle name.
you remember his favorite drink-
dr. pepper no ice-
and you know what you did wrong
and now you’re writing sad poems
about him
while listening to sad songs
not about him but they could be
and the lyrics remind you
of what you had.
the ache has not yet dulled.
you can’t help but remember him
when you look at
the jar of pennies
on your desk.

a royal blue ocean
turned black by veil of night
the lighthouse stands alone
on an island made of rock
and moonlight spills
onto everything below
shiny, dark waves
rush onto the shore