I wish I could write
words like your eyes:
bright, kind, and
long as your eyelashes
so they seem to last
forever

I wish I could turn
your mouth into my alarm clock
because your kisses
are softer
than any song
and it is harder
to close my eyes again
after seeing your smile

I wish I could bottle
your voice
and wear it as perfume
so I might be followed
by so sweet and warm
a smell

I wish your touch
could be transformed
into clothing
I would wear in times
that quiet is preferred
and loneliness
is unwanted

"Don't play hard to get,"
you say,
but I thought we weren't playing at all
because the labored breaths
and extended silences
we exchanged instead of words
were the conclusion to our never-published,
still-in-editing,
fairy tale love story

Your eyes held on
to the tears that had formed
so that they never really fell

And I held on
to our unspoken romance
and fell harder than expected

I thought I was the one
who jumped
but not without a little push
from you

I can't say I blame you
you just did what was best
but I guess I wasn't prepared
for best
to feel worst

So Boy,
I am not playing with anyone
or anything
(except with my necklace,
when I think about you)
and you are still plucking away
at my strings,
so softly
that I almost didn't notice

I guess I'm too familiar with the sound
to ignore it

I found myself
full
after a day
of starvation
and I look in the mirror
disgusted by
not only my external
appearance
but my inner demons
as well

We have thoughts
about everything
we come in contact with,
but I never saved
my better judgments
for me

Perhaps I have used up
too much kindness
on everyone else
until there is none
left
at the end of the day
to spread through my fingertips
onto the skin
I occupy
but cannot seem
to love

I never used to dream
when sleeping next to you
but the gasp escaping my lips
and your hand on my arm
shakes me out of a fantasy
where we are perfectly aligned

The sweat on my chest
becomes evident
as rhythmic sounds echo from your tongue
that I cannot understand
until they rattle behind my teeth
making a sleepy song of desire

We could not have been closer
unless we molded together
into a mess of aggressively ignored love
and animalistic monotony
that I'll ice with fear,
aftertaste like regret

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

"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)

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

They say,
Time heals all wounds,
but even my deepest paper cuts
would not begin to bleed
and so the pain would wear on
and the scab would never form
and I was never able to expel the venom
buried deep inside.

You cannot always feel the bruises,
but sometimes I push on them to feel the pain.

You cannot always see the bruises,
but that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

I dug the knife into my skin,
then asked you to pull it out
and you did not do it the way I hoped.

You did not make a clean cut,
but twisted it, ever so slightly,
and the **** was bigger than before.

I do not blame you for my injury,
and with all that time you spent in hospitals,
I guess I thought you would be better at healing.

I cannot speak to the future,
and I wish not to think of my dreams.
I had plans for the two of us
that your arms could not wrap around
and God, I wish they were holding me.

Perhaps the tears need to fall
to replace the blood I never lost,
and perhaps the pain that hurts the most
are the hopes I keep inside.

It feels as though
There is a tightrope beneath my feet
A blindfold surrounds my eyes
And in my heart, a heavy beat

I am not sure how long I have been walking
Or how much farther I have to go
Nor if I fall,
How many lifetimes it would take,
To hit whatever's down below

There are days I feel like wings
Have sprouted from my back
And I feel like I am light as air
Running swiftly down this track

Sometimes I feel like falling
Just to see what's underneath
That maybe on the ground are your arms calling
I haven't the faith to take the leap

Most of the time, however,
I am trying too hard not to shake,
My balance is the victim here
When my time, I choose to take

This tightrope I've been walking
Has been braided so carefully
By all the words I ever think
And let out
So carelessly

Perhaps I am too heavy
To walk a rope as thin as this,
Weighed down by burden, lies, and stress,
One wrong step,
Would I be missed?

the heat in the pit of my stomach
is so familiar,
tears run down my cheeks
when I try to suppress it

I have always been
a good test taker
who can follow rules
that only apply
in timed intervals
that occur in rooms
with too-bright lights
and recycled air
that isn't circulating
around the heads of students
that, under normal conditions,
would radiate heat,
but now only emit stress

I have always been
good at rolling my eyes
(in all situations)
but particularly to those
who work themselves up
over means of evaluation
that, while they are determinant
of subsequent events,
do not measure your worth,
value,
or abilities in all areas

I have always been
poor at reminding myself
of these skills
when the tests I take
don't place me
in the same category
in which
I have always been

What I like about naps in the summer
Is the way it doesn't matter
How hot the air is
You still manage to fall asleep
The warm breeze does not cool you
But it feels so friendly
Against your skin

I love the way the birds
Sing a lullaby
That weighs down your eyelids

I love that their song
Is just the smallest bit different
When they raise them back up

I love how you have to wipe back the hair
That now frames your face
Yet your skin feels perfectly dry
And how the heat had built up
Under your chest
But now you finally feel cool

I love how you can sleep for a few minutes
Or even a few hours
And the sun will still be shining when you wake
As if you haven't lost any time

I love the way a glass of water
Is like paradise after a summer nap
A cure for the sleep induced hangover
That's made tolerable by the sun

I love the way it feels
To be born again
Into the same day
And see it with new eyes

If only
I could take a holiday
from the life I am living
just to see what lies
on the other side
of the fence

I am almost positive
the grass would be greener
but I must see
to believe
and my brain and heart
have outgrown the confidence
I once wore

If only I could dress my mind
the way I dress my body-
then I would be surely proud
of the road
my feet have chosen to walk

You are my dragon.

You breathe fire
in every direction
and burn down
what your breath touches
so that everyone stays
far, far away.

You guard my castle
in fear that someone
might come inside
and I will no longer
be alone.

You fight off princes
that might possibly
want my hand in marriage
so when they lose
you can tell me
that they didn't
fight hard enough.

You are my dragon.

With you,
I know I am safe.

Without you,
I know I could be free
to live my life.

I hope not
that a prince comes
and slays you
but rather
that you fly away
on your own accord.

Did you call her at all,
drunk and alone in the middle of the night?
Did you tell her
she was the one you wanted?

I suggested we spend the weekend
away in the city that sleeps
as well as we do together.
You used an exclamation point
in your response
which you never do.

Why don't you talk to me
the way I imagine you do
to people you are less invested in?
I always assume you are
actually
invested
in me.

The only thing I think about
is you.

Will I ever manage
to be strong enough
to get what I deserve
from you?

I have always noticed
That while this city is filled with females
The library is filled with men
Middle-aged; average, maybe less
Sitting at computers
Afternoons
Weekdays

Today I saw them, for the hundreth time
I finally realized
These men have nowhere else to go
Some of them, maybe
But nowhere they would rather be
They're looking for jobs
To feed their families, themselves
This library is their 9-5
No qualifications necessary

I sit in the Bates Room
Surrounded by green lamps and wood tables
Books line the walls, and the gray clouds do not let the sun shine in
The image of academia, the most scholarly of steeples
A man sits across the room
In a navy hat and gray sweater
Book open in front of him
Exactly halfway through

He dozes off
Time and time again
The security guard wakes him up

People walk in and out
Taking pictures and admiring the architecture

I wonder what he's thinking

Our greatest fear
is often
being wrong,
but what is so good
about being right?

People who are always right
never learn to get up
because they never fall down.
They never taste
the sweetness of victory
after their mouth was filled
with the sour taste of defeat.

People who are always right
learn by retaining,
not by doing.
They are simply sponges,
collecting data,
barely in need of their brain.

People who are always right
do not get rewarded
because no one cares
about the one-shot triumph,
if the five hundred tries
are more interesting.

We are afraid of being wrong
because we think it means
that we are weak.
Being wrong,
however,
really just shows
we are human.

That was the summer our electric bill went up
because as soon as the sun went down
I would light up mirrors
that I stared down for hours
in hopes that I would lose

My self esteem
with every inch I lost
from my arms, legs, fingers, chest,
but if I could just take a few more
from my waist then I would be

Mentally unstable and out of control
as I stay in line with 1,200 calorie days
and sit-ups before bed
because a coworker offered me a cookie
and I couldn't say

No one should have to feel like they're dying
in order to feel beautiful
but how can you fly
when your wings are too heavy
to get off the

Ground level is where I am right now
but at this point I'm used
to taking the stairs
so the top doesn't look
too far away anymore

I was the only one
Who you never taught to fish
Because I didn't want to learn
That weekend we were at the lake
It was your 80th birthday
And I said
Maybe next time
Not knowing
That there wouldn't be a next time
But that weekend was still my favorite
At the top of the list
Of all of the weekends I've ever had
Because I spent it outside
With the people whose blood would match mine
If they were to fall
On those stone steps
That look like God put them there himself
Surrounded by the most beautiful trees
Leading to the shimmering blue bowl
That He drinks from in the summer
In the blistering heat

You wouldn't say so
That He created this masterpiece
Now engraved at the front of my memory
But you called to the birds
Because you knew they would answer
And you swam in the bowl
Because you knew it would be cooler than the thick summer air
And you cast out your line
To see if the fish would come
And they did
But only to you

God speaks to those who will listen
And the fish come to those who know how to call them
Because the water and the forest and the fields and the sky
Were your church
And you prayed with your hands
When you tied the line
And whittled the wood
And you thanked with your eyes
When you watched the birds
And admired the trees
And you spread the Word
When you sang back to the insects
And called to the animals
As if you knew what you were saying to them

You came alive in nature
And it came alive with you
Not once did you complain
About the heat
Or the cold
Or the bugs
Or the waves
Or the weeds
Or the storms
You knew what would happen
And that it could not be controlled
Because nature had a plan
And that plan meant taking you
Earlier than we had liked
But not too early
For you lived your life completely
And now you are one with the earth
Perhaps Mother Nature
Did give birth to you
And now the breeze I smell
And the sun I see
And the birds I hear
And the grass I feel
Is you

You might not have taught me to call the fish
But you taught me to never stand with my back to the ocean
So it would not push me down
If you stand with your back to the ocean
You cannot see the waves
Breaking in their strength and glory
They will beg for your attention
Look at me
They cry
Look to the horizon
Going on forever
Watch the sun set
Watch the light slip away
There is darkness in this world
Face it, head on
Watch the stars start to shine
Your little pieces of light
Look for the moon
Almost as bright as the sun
Watch the sun set
Because tomorrow, it will rise

We'll fall in love
with a thin layer of smoke
between our lips
and a soft mixture of beer
and blood
running through our veins

We'll fall in love
in the dim lighting
where your eyes will hold mine
for longer
just in case
I can't see you perfectly

We'll fall in love
every night we spend together
and every morning
we'll duct tape our feelings
to the dusty floor
beneath your bed
until we pretend to find them
at the bottom of the stairs
the following weekend

We'll fall in love
without ever doing so
because that would be
stubbornly revolutionary
just as we are

I cross the street and you cross my mind
Carefully trying to avoid the pothole
But what does it matter?
I've fallen for you already

I once caught my breath in this spot
Shortly after, you took it away
At the moment where the city becomes visible
Looking to where the sun rises
You told me I was not your morning memory
But I always found my way into your thoughts

All day I had been trying to insert myself
Into your life, conversation, mind
Fighting with a girl who used the secrets I told her
To fund her vacations from pinky promises and movie nights

My voice must have hit the perfect spot in your ears
Because the beer you bought me kissed my lips
In a way that reminded me of you
And your hand on my knee was more comfortable
Than the yoga pants I was embarrassingly wearing
In a bar on a Sunday night

I tell myself the bright headlights shining in my direction
Are the cause of my blurry vision

I wish I could calculate
The number of times you wanted to kiss me
Subtract the number of times you actually did
Add the number of nights I spent awake and thinking of you
Multiply it by the number of nights you spent thinking of me
Divide it all by the number of encounters we've had with other men/women since you walked into my life
That would give me our compatibility, the amount I should care about where this (non-existant) relationship goes

The other day
I thought to myself
Maybe I am over you
Maybe I am holding on
To feelings that are no longer
Growing on their own

Today
I saw a picture
Of you and a woman
More well-known
Than you could ever dream of being

A week from now
She won't remember you
What you look like
What your voice sounds like
And she doesn't realize
Just how lucky she was
To even learn that today

In a few months
I will see you again
And I can do nothing
But hope
That you will touch me
In a way
That you will never touch her

I have run out
Of people to run to
When everything is falling apart

I touch my hipbone
And this one spot beneath my chest
Ever so slightly
When I want to feel better
About anything

I wish the earth gave you an option
Night or day
For when you need goosebumps from the sun
Or a calm, cool silence

Sometimes broken
Is better than bent
Because bent might break later on

They say,
If you are comfortable
in your own skin,
you will never be lonely

I tell them,
It's not that I am uncomfortable,
it's just that my own beating heart
is not loud enough
to echo off the walls
of my too-small apartment
on Saturday nights
when the city
is just starting
to wake up

They say,
You should not crave
a relationship
to fill the hole of loneliness

I tell them,
I do not crave him
for the sake of company,
because I breathe on my own terms
and I yearn for his presence
no matter who is around

They say,
Loneliness can be cured
by looking inside yourself

I tell them,
I have looked,
and I see a girl
the rest of the world
should miss when she's away,
but whose absence
never seems to be noticed

we are each an empty ice tray
sitting in the freezer
side by side
an image of disappointment and laziness
addressed with an eye roll and a slight growl

when we are full
we are frozen solid, dry
not something one would be interested in holding

we are playing a game
to see who can stay solid,
the first to melt if necessary

for now, we are pieces of white plastic
serving absolutely no purpose

I sat on your bed,
confused as to why you asked me to stay
Your sister downstairs,
left to think what she wanted

You sit down next to me,
finding the courage to touch me
Your hands move lightly,
fingertips brushing my back, my knee

Our fingers collide,
but we are feeling too much to stop
Left waiting,
the back of your hand pressed to my leg

You stare at my lips,
I realize how dry my mouth is
We both know what's coming,
but neither is brave enough to start

It won't be much longer,
you press your forehead to my shoulder
With one sweeping motion,
darkness overtakes the room

I see nothing,
but feel your mouth against mine
Three months separated,
distance finally closed with open lips

I singe my hair dry
so it stays perfectly straight
even as I toss it over my shoulder
pretending I don't care
about your overused compliments
and your cinematic lines

I fill up my pores
with liquid lust
so that when I force myself to turn away
my skin glows with the kind of confidence
that can only be bought
in drug store chains

I rip every leg hair
from it's follicle home
so that when you graze my knee
with your lying fingers
you feel my vulnerable skin
and touch my soul in a way
that freezes my body to stone

I pull on the tightest dress
in hopes that it squeezes out
my crazy, romantic thoughts
and leaves nothing but the curves you desire

I speak perfectly chosen words
that I barely hear
because they are not my own
but they will win you over

I do all of this
just to come home alone
at the end of the night
and crawl into my bed
and think about the guy
I would rather have performed for
during this production

Being with you was like ice cream.

I craved it.
The taste, the smell, the summer sun that came with it.
Ice cream was more than a food,
it was an experience.

It came in different flavors
to fit your mood,
the time of day,
your anticipating taste buds.
Sometimes, it wasn't exactly what you wanted
but it was always good
and more often than not
it was better than expected.

And as I eat ice cream,
I am happy.
It's like I am a little kid,
everything is perfect,
nothing could go wrong.

And then it is over,
the ice cream is gone,
and a little hole forms in my heart,
but the ice cream melts and fills it up.

Soon after, I feel sick to my stomach.
How could something so good make me feel so bad?

I am lactose-intolerant.
Now, I crave something I cannot have.

I've been avoiding writing
like your eyes on Saturday night,
because how do I tell you
that I'll miss you when you're gone
and admit to myself
that it might not be a big deal?

I am not scared
that my heart will stop beating
but that yours will seek
the warmth of someone else.

I cannot say this is what I want
even though I am certain
this is what you need.

This is not heartbreak.

No,
this is something different
and I'm not quite sure what it's called.

The first boy I ever slept with
All we did was sleep
Even though in the middle of the night
Which I suppose was early in the morning
I woke up
Wanting you as close as possible
And I woke you up
Trying to get closer
And you kissed my lips
And you kissed my neck
And your hands touched my bare hip bones
That I pushed out ever so carefully
So you would think that I was skinnier
And you climbed on top of me
And I wanted you there
But my mind kept screaming
No, stop, this isn't a good idea
So I broke the silence
By just saying
Stop.
And I continued to kiss you as tried to understand
What I wanted to stop
It didn't matter
That I said no to an idea that was never written down
Because you rolled over
And wrapped your arms around me
But I carefully moved your hands
To where I wanted them to be
Because I was afraid
Of being just a body to you
And not a pretty one at that

No one
is ever sure
about you and me

So I guess
we'll be a theory
of love
in which everyone
has a different opinion
on what would prove
to be the most effective
way to proceed
from here

It will never be proven
and it will be
an unsolved mystery
where the author
doesn't give you a hint
of what might have happened

We'll be a theory
instead of a fact
because theories
can change
as I know
we will

Life will keep running,
even after you've asked it
to please slow down
because you are having a hard time
keeping up
and your lungs feel
as though they might collapse
any moment

You are not the conductor
on the Train of Life,
nor do you have the power
to tell Him
which direction to go
when there comes a fork
in the tracks

Life has many doors
for which you do not
hold the key
and sometimes
we need to wait
for someone to come out
so we can slip inside

Lucky for us,
while we have a coach
who gives us a play,
it is the players who have
to carry it out
and there is always
the opportunity
to make a change

It's been about a year since I felt like this
My stomach trying to expel all the hurt
my brain is creating on its own

I should trust the words you tell me
on a standard Sunday
outside where you used to live

In that same spot I cried
over a girl whose face I never saw
but whose name still makes me cringe

You say her name now for the first time out loud
to prove to me you are not repeating history
yet I am not so sure

I do my best to laugh at the ulcer
I am forming
in the face of a little heartbreak

Instead I replay every moment
from the weekend before
that might make you flee

A vicious cycle of self-hatred
I cannot escape
no matter how tightly you hold me

I fight with my hands
so they do not begin
to trace deep rivers on my stomach
that always lead to my hipbone basin

I flex my palms
and admire how my knuckles protrude
when I relax them again

My cheek bones can be felt
with a light pressure
and everlasting insecurity
but my chin never thins
quite the way I want

I pull my hair elastic forward
so that it sits right before
my perfect wrists

I admire my knees
as I sit in a tight skirt,
eyes trailing upward,
smile getting smaller,
thighs getting bigger

I tell myself I am better
and then I am alone

He asked me to please not break your heart
and now he's tortured it
leaving you bruised and broken

I can fix it for a short time
with the warmth of my skin
and hearty advice that I cannot see
once it leaves my lips
and divides into four ears
that could benefit from listening

He asked me to please not break your heart
so I will not ask you to stay
when my own beating ***** is ready to explode

Facebook told me
You were listening to Lies
on Spotify

So was I

I could fall in love with you

I could fall in love
with the way you kiss me--
like I'm a drink you can't taste fast enough
and always leaves you wanting more

I could fall in love
with the way you call me--
like you just heard the best joke
that you cannot wait to share

I could fall in love
with the way you leave me--
like a mother scolding her child
you will hit me with a hard goodbye
that stings upon contact
and is healed by your constant presence
from that moment on

I could fall in love with you
but I will not
in fear that the kisses and the calls will stop
and you will leave me for good

I could fall in love with you

It rained
the first time
I spent the night in your unmade bed

It rained
the last time
I watched you turn off the lights

It's raining
and I wish it was one of those times
when you would kiss the top of my head
and wrap your arms around me
when you think that I'm asleep

there is a stress ball
in my stomach
that feels pressure
from the vibrations of your phone
and the thoughts in my head
screaming
she doesn't need you
she doesn't want you
you are useless to her
disposable space
kept only to **** time

I could make myself sick
(the way I used to)
with the thought of you
choosing someone else
over me

best friends?
best at ignoring the tension
best at telling exaggerated stories
best at constant comparison

I'm already counting down
the days until the birthday
I'll most likely celebrate
without you
because shiny and new
almost always wins

they think you're the one
who needs her heart medicated
when mine starts to race
as soon as I open my eyes

the sentences
in our romance novel
are laced
with the most distinct
punctuation
you might think
we changed the font

it is not perfect
because we were both always
struggling
to be the writers we wanted to be
but it's alright
the fundamentals are there

we might add in
more detail
just to be sure
the readers know
we are in love
and I hate to leave out
that time
your fingertips
grazed my knee
(what time was that?)
to compensate
for our differing memories

our chapters
do not match up
because we are reading
two versions
of the same story
written
by different authors

the only thing
blatantly missing
from our book
is the title

but isn't that
what most authors
do last?

it isn't until the rain
hits the hardwood floor
that I remember
how rain used to be ours

I remember the mist
in the sky and our eyes
when I wore this same shirt
and we broke all the rules

I remember the puddles
that first night together
and the rain on the roof
as I tried not to sleep

I remember the reflection
of rain clouds and sunshine
when we whispered like snow
the earliest we ever awoke

the lightning flashes
and I pray you will so quickly
arrive at my door

All day
all YEAR
I have been listening to the voices
traveling through my ears
playing over and over again in my head

They tell me,
You need to work hard
You need to work harder
You cannot fail
Just do your best

What the sources of these voices do not realize
I am working as hard as I can
My best does not matter
My best is the same as failing

I try my hardest
Yet you would never know
Funny, how most people think I'm slacking
When I really have nothing left to give

My best is everyone else's worst
Which is why I have stopped trying
Why I have been destroying myself
and become addicted to death

I am not good enough
I was once
Those days are long gone now
Gold stars masked by average, maybe less

There is nothing left of me to give
that is worthwhile
Nothing left to show
that might mean something
to someone