When I fall in love again
I want someone
who can hold my hair back
while I throw up my thoughts
and open a window so they'll fly away
and get caught in a tree
that we'll one day sit under
where they'll propose
and let me propose back
because I am a wobbly one
who likes the concept of balance
and stability.
Someone who will sleep on top of my body
and believe me when I say
I love the pressure
and the lack of oxygen
to my brain helps ease my chronic nightmares
--then wake up and be silent
because morning breath
is too much of a bully
to let my mouth say good morning.
Someone who pines for second hand embarrassment
enough to love when I
sing and dance around the grocery store
and get us kicked out
only to go across the street
for food that I'll either
barely touch or
shove in my face.
When we go to order
or pay at a place,
they'll understand that
they have to talk for me
so I don't get scared and cry.
I want someone
who'll shut up and be my muse
and let me make them
thousands of presents everyday
but also stress about Christmas and birthdays,
and I want someone who'll let me baby them
then have them turn around and
know that when I flop down like
a wanton cat
I'm getting some tummy rubs.
I want someone who'll
let me buy organic veggies
and not question me
when I sneak candy around my friends.
Someone who'll get that
I can't say 'I love you' in passing,
only when I look at them
and love bubbles over the brim of me,
and spills into their ears.
Someone who'll let me
stop the kissing
to run my tongue
across the sharp edges of their teeth,
and in the moment, let me kiss
what ever I want to kiss,
whether it be an elbow
or somewhere below.
Someone who can keep up
with my mania
and my hysteria,
who'll hide the sharp objects,
not because I'd use them,
but because they make my bones ice cold.
Someone who'll let me worry over them,
study them,
sing to them,
analyze them,
and crush on them.
Someone who'll let me lightly punch them,
and then cry sorry
cry sorry
cry sorry.
Someone who'll be interested in me,
want to know me
and
let me know them
and let me ask
a
million
questions?
When I find this someone,
I will flip my body over my soul's head
like a tee-shirt,
turn it right-side-in,
and hand it to them.

I was taught to add and subtract at the age of four. My twenty year old mother would sit me down on the grass while waiting for my aunt to get out of high school, and teach me my numbers on her big, scarred hands. I was five when I realized something that would change me for the rest of my life. The number six and the number four are both just one away from being a solid five.
At six years old, my classmate and I were given our daily snacks. My friend had gotten six crackers, while I got four. I asked, “may I have a *******?” She reminded me that I had already gotten my napkin-full of crackers. “But if you give me one, we will both have five.” She bugged her eyes at me.
“I wanna have more,” she said. I shook my head at her, and ate my four crackers.
I wanted to participate in my elementary school’s food drive when I was ten years old, and in fifth grade. I was motivated to make a change for families in need of canned food. When I went home and asked my mom for cans, she explained to me that the cans that my schoolmates were donating would probably end up in our pantry, because we get our food from the local foodbank. I looked up at our pantry. I saw some dusty cans in the back that hadn’t been touched, and multiple cans next to them. I then remembered when we didn’t have even one can, and thought of the families who didn’t have even one can right then. And then I thought: But we have six, and they have four...
A homeless man and I both had five the day I bought him a sandwich when I was fourteen.
My best friend had four when she was sexually abused, and I gave up one when I shoved past the school security guards and got her to the hospital at the age of fifteen.
The year I turned sixteen I figured I had six when I realized there was an unfairness at my school. I gave my fellow students one when I convinced the principal to make a change about it, after being sent to him for disturbing the class with my speech.
I gave up one of my six when I turned seventeen and wrote the inspiring story of my brother’s car crash, for all of the people with four in their broken hearts.
As long as I have six, I will continue to give one. I won’t stop until everyone has five, and the world is one big ten.