Not all bridges are made of wood,
you tell me,
when I ask you why you have not yet
set fire to the pathway
that connects us

Some of the ugliest structures
are the ones that last the longest-
the ones where you can see the insides
and there is no masking
the wear and tear
of years of rain and wind and snow

Eventually,
those structures become landmarks,
pieces of importance

I realize that our structure
is by far, the ugliest,
and I hate it every time I see it

but I will not remove it

Drunk,
you called for me to catch up

Drunk,
you bowed and kissed my hand
and asked me to curtesy

Drunk,
you offered up your arm to me
and laughed when you somehow managed
to mess that up

Drunk,
you kissed me on the corner
with the lights of the cars around us

Drunk,
you held my hand as we walked
and did not flinch as others passed us

Drunk,
you wrapped your arm around my waist
in front of your friends
and held me tighter
than you ever have

In the morning,
I find out that you were sober
and my heart skips a beat

"Where is this going?"
you ask me, breathless

I know you are inquiring
about the next 5 minutes
but I cannot help but consider
the next 5 years
as I spill out words
that affirm the next move
you have been patiently waiting to play
for months

and the word friend
flashes in neon lights
behind my eyelids
as I think about your arm around my waist
in the bar just a few hours before
and your mouth pressed to my head
aggressively whispering
"Stop."
on the way home
when the heat in my chest
started to build
after looking at your phone

"We'll talk about this later,"
you tell me definitively
and so in the cold December air
you tell me that I deserve better
and that you do not deserve my suppressed tears
that might freeze if they fell

As you turn on the lights
so you can see what you're doing
I lie in your bed
now knowing
what it is like to be in a relationship

(but please don't use that word)

With the soft knocking
of your palm against my fingers,
the door into my heart,
I think not-so-carefully
about letting you in

And as I move to the threshold
I find the door already slightly ajar
so I reach out to touch you
and feel your heartbeat move through my veins

You don't touch back
but do not move from beneath my hands
and I know you are telling me
to take it slow
because my favorite thing to do
is run when I'm told to walk
and I always feel
as though I'm running out of time

I take a breath or two
and do not look at you for too long
in case you disappear
while I am too busy blinking

Someone else's illness
won't make your cold any better

Someone else's tsunami
won't stop your wave from pulling you under

Someone else's hurricane
won't stop your thunderstorm

Someone else's novel
won't make your sentence meaningless

Someone else's depression
won't make your sadness go away

Someone else's excitement
won't diminish your happiness

Someone else's better
won't take away your best

Someone else
won't be you