You're in love with me
But I'm in love with him
And he's in love with her
I am torn.
He kisses my cheeks when she is not around
The bouquet of compliments grows
He wraps his arms around me tight
Explaining how happy he is that I came tonight

This is an open letter to anyone who feels the need to share their poetry with me
This is an open letter for anyone who wants to bury their face in an endless succession of books with me
This is an open letter to anyone who will listen to records with me at 2 A.M.
Someone who will buy me coffee with a bit of sugar, but more creamer
This is an open letter to anyone who wants to watch the cars go by with me
Someone who will warm up my heart with cups of soup and soft blankets
This is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to love me for myself
Someone who will not shout and hold my wrists down when I cut my hair too short
This is an open letter to the adventures, the game changers.
I need truthfulness.
I need laughter.
I need someone to fill up the empty cracks in the delves of my palms.
I want silly candids in the city.
I crave long nights spent driving around, staring at flashing streetlights on an abandoned road.
I want postcards sent from everywhere you've ever stopped and missed the tone of my voice and my unsettling hands.
An open letter to those who collect seashells, like a ******* addiction.
To those who love thunderstorms as much as I do, and would much rather hide in the rain than bask in the sun.
Rain is for us, you know.
To those who will dazzle me with their immense vocabulary.
Those who will capture my attention like sharp swords catch the edge of fabric on your right shoulder.
Those who want to stay up until the sun peaks up from behind the tall mountains and wraps words around my skin in the early hours of dawn.
The ones who whisper sweet nothings on the phone with me until I drift off to sleep
An invitation to those who kiss with their eyes closed and imagine the days and nights passing between our lips.
To those who believe lightning is just God taking pictures of us, he wants to see how you're doing.
This is an open letter to those who live to write and write to live.
To those who thrive on the emotions behind paintings and live to see their fingers swell.
This is an invite to anyone who isn't afraid to become messy with me
To dance in our underwear while we paint fresh daisies on the apartment walls
To those who aren't afraid to eat Popsicles with me on the kitchen floor.
To those who help me find endings in places I need to place a period.
This is an open invite to anyone who is willing to light off fireworks with me on the courthouse lawn.
A careful boy with thick brown hair
And sea green eyes
Freckles and thick framed glasses
A boy who isn't afraid to get his hands *****
A nightowl
A poet
He carries a brief case around and calls me darling.
His favorite thing is big spoon
And his inspirations come from me
He's never lied to me once
He doesn't like sports, but sometimes he can go for a game of soccer
He always takes photos of me when I'm not looking and he collects them like the way he collects metaphors
He wants to be wanted as much as I do
And he looks for me too
I love you
I hope to meet you soon

Weeks have gone by since we last spoke.
You're currently on the other side of the world right now, and I want so badly for you to just stay there.
My hometown is much better when you aren't here.
I can go to the store, to our favorite restaurant, past your work, and I don't even worry about you seeing me.
I find myself looking for your car in parking lots and on the freeway.
The "junk" sticker your friend strategically placed on your bumper, still burns in my head.
I look for the yellow 'w' on your mothers Honda.
I find myself doing this all the time.
While I'm at coffee with a friend.
Stuck behind green lights.
Daydreaming at work.
It's so strange.
I'm so scared to see you again.
I have this love love hate whatever feeling stuck in the pits of my stomach.
It's not as though I'm confused.
I knew what you were doing.
I guess I just have this urge to spite you, but not quite.
I made out with two boys in one day, so I just figured you should know that.
I want so badly for you to see me and for you to want me more than you ever have in your life.
I want to turn you down, until you are crumpled paper that I can set fire to.
It's crazy how sadness turns into anger in a matter of time.
Every single time I hear that song, part of me wants to cry,
But as a whole, i have no tears left in my being.
I wish you saw me when I was depressed.
I guess I wish you would have understood what you put me through.
I guess I wish you could read this.
Being without you feels good, but lonely at the same time.
I don't know..
I should have dumped you a long time ago
You still come up in daily conversations...
"Oh me and so and so used to do that..."
I think at some point that will go away..
I'm doing better now.
I hope it lasts.

I have a name
One of those names you leave on welcome mats, but don't leave a key under because you're afraid of letting someone in.
Its easy to dust your feet off on me.
You do so everytime you leave this half empty house
I'm easy to leave
You don't think twice about making sure  the door is locked
You don't linger on the porch steps near my name
If the house was on fire, I'd be the very last thing you'd save.
You don't bring me inside in the winter
I'm a placeholder
I keep the dirt from reaching  your crippled frames.
I'm not a necessity.
I mean, how many people have welcome matts anymore?
I have a name.
But it doesn't bring joy to your home.
I'm not a welcome mat.
I am a mat of despair and anguish.
"Yes, please enter our lovely home! I've died here more times than you can count on your temperate fingertips!"
I do not feel like home
I do not soothe you on cold rainy days, but rather sit in the damp haze of depression.
I am not your welcome mat.

In 8th grade
We had a long absence due to the misguidance of friends
Because of jealousy
At the end of the year,
We slowly began to talk once more
You explained the terrors of your parents divorce
Leaving out the big details
We weren't close yet
Freshman year
I spent long evenings at your house
And ate dinner with your religious family
The summers we spent laughing until the early hours of dawn
You spoke more about your father
You explained the significance of the night he spat in your face
Exclaiming his hatred for you
This broke you down to nothing but crushed pieces of a human
In the second term of sophomore year
You didn't come to school
Teachers asked where you were and I tried to make it subtle
You missed over three months that year
Junior year
Your absences racked up
You missed school for "surgery excuses"
You couldn't put your shoes on
You lost clothing items
Senior year
You were home schooled
I was forced to walk idly around the school like a hopeless ghost
Wishing for the friendship you and I had
Wishing for someone who cares
That's your favorite
You dont care about anything
You're selfish
You have no goals set up for yourself at the end of the tunnel
Your long distance relationship came to an end because you lost feelings
But I've been missing my first love since march and you've been telling me to just
"Forget about it"
Its not that easy, you say it is.
You are defensive
You're excuse is the depression
You want to up the dose of your medication
You know, sometimes people say you need to just get over your depression
That's equivalent to saying "HEY! YOUR EMOTIONS ARENT VALID",
Which is exactly what you did to me
I'm not trying to degrade your depression
I've been there
But you've placed yourself in the bottom of the pits for three years
And no one can help you anymore
Its up to YOU to pull yourself out
Stop depending on temporary people to breach your armor of happiness
It never works
Ive been there
Take care of yourself
Take a shower
Brush your teeth
Wash your face
Look in the mirror
Tell me if you love the person who looks back at you
I dont think you do..

I know I've compared your body
To the ocean and tall mountains
So rigid and structured
And I have compared your hands
To many others beings of the earth
But let's talk about your name
It starts with "J"
And no
You are not a Jeff
I clap twice at your name
Two syllables
But not many know your true name
Not many at all
Your name is something  I can not forget
It rolls off my tongue
When I am least expecting it
And I suppose my preconscious
Liked to think of you
I accidentally say your name daily now, I do.
I clap twice
Your name is something whispered in sleep
Your name is something I screamed on the bathroom floor
A blood curdling scream
Your name is trying to leave my mouth
But it fits so comfortable there
Your name does not want to leave
Your name made a home out the gaping hole in my face
Two syllables or one
You could go either way
I find myself slipping
I wonder
Have you called her the wrong name yet?
I always knew you were being serious when you called me by own
And so I am just wondering,
Has my name cursed the tip of your tongue with a bitter taste?
I think you were used to being good at the name game
I mean, look at all of the women standing in your front yard
They never knew which direction the sky was
And I am one of the few that'd been saved
I clap twice
I'm wondering how long it will take.
When will I finally give up trying to make a home out of the bone white afternoon
Your name causes trouble
Leads me to slapped wrists and cuts along the frayed edges of my skirt
Rulers dripping with a red textured tint
And no it was never paint from my art set
Your name is poison
Your name is alcohol
I'm gulping your name down
To keep myself from becoming love sick
It used to taste so sweet
Radiated smiles
But every time I bring up your name
I get sympathetic looks
I receive
"Oh, sweetheart. He's not worth it.."
But you were.
I guess comparing your body to the planets and constellations was never enough
And it had always been your name leaving me..