The damp heat surrounds my face,

I followed you into the jungle,
you said you would wait for me.

But all you do is lie,
your words like tiny daggers.

I do not worry, I do not fret
about the venomous snakes or the violent monkeys.

But I saw your feet leave mine into the jungle,

and you did not look twice.

You pick luscious fruit,
never once doubting your decision.
You smile at the sweetness.

I try it too but the poison fills my blood.

It rises through my body.

I do not worry, I do not fret
about the biting bugs or the vicious birds.

You promised to stay,
you promised to love.

But you took my heart into the jungle,

never once leaving bread crumbs.

The freckle, in the center of the back of his right hand, is the color of autumn leaves and tree bark. On it I draw flowers of love and waves of want with kisses and touches. His right hand is the one that fits perfectly into mine, crafted and cut from the same stone to connect at the lifeline on our palms. I notice everything about his hands. The scaly red knuckles and the delicate milk skin between each finger. The dark dirt under each broken nail that never disappears. His hands are the thing that passes over my arm and sends prickles down my back. The hand with that beautiful freckle is the hand that I want to hold for the rest of my life. I love that hand. I love the boy that is attached to this hand. His eyes are deep and bright at the same time. They are the color of a sunrise- dark blue with flecks of orange and yellow. Every day I look in to those eyes and I drown. I drown in the want and the need of him. The hair on his head is the color of happiness- blonde and brown and soft and long and perfect. His lips are average and insignificant but to me they are everything I have ever wanted. They are the color of melted and spun sugar that you get at the carnival. I want to press mine to his, I want to stand on the tops of my toes to reach his lips, to taste him. I want to make constellations with my kisses from the freckles on his nose. I love those freckles but my favorite one is the one on the center of the back of his right hand. The one the color of autumn leaves and tree bark. That freckle made me fall in love with him. The day I noticed that freckle is the day I knew that I was completely, utterly in love with this boy. I was drowning in everything that is him and I was deprived in everything that is not him. But this boy is not mine. He is no ones. He walks this earth with the intent of ruling it and though I am by his side this boy King does not love me the way I love him. I know he loves me but we are platonic. And platonic people do want to press their lips together. And platonic people do not want to wake up tangled in sheets in the morning to see one another. No, platonic people love at a distance but I cannot stand that distance anymore. I want to take my sledgehammer of impatience and dynamite of want and crumble that wall. I will do anything to close that distance because I want him, I need him, I love him. But what does that matter? He is the boy King that cannot be held down and I am just a peasant girl waiting for her Prince Charming.

They told me that I am never truly alone
But they didn’t tell me about the sleepless nights

Where my thoughts take over and crush my lungs

And my feet grow cold and my eyes grow hot

When everyone is asleep and dreaming 

And the moon is laughing at my twisting and turning

They never warned me about the milliseconds in between sentences
When my mind stops and time pauses

And my hands clench and my eyes blur

Where everyone is laughing or talking or crying

And everything stops long enough for only me to notice

They didn’t speak about the time when I sit down at a table

And the conversation stops and every pair of eyes look at me

When the chewing ceases and my knees grow weak 

And my face gets painted the color of cuts in your arm
Where my seat screeches into a conversation

And people’s mouths shut

They never told me about these times

But now I know that these are the moments
that

I

Am

Truly

Alone

You flood my every thought
I need something to keep me afloat
I can’t breathe and my lungs are crushed

But you’re next to me and that’s all that matters

Everyday it gets worse

Like the storm of you will never end

Lightning strikes when you look at me

Rain soars when you touch my lips

Clouds cover my eyes

Blocking everyone but you

I’m drowning in your smiles

And I’m buried in your laughter

I need air to fill my body but there is none left
I can’t see anything but you
I’m not supposed to feel this

I’m not supposed to be drowning 

I’m not supposed to give pieces of my heart to untrustworthy hands

The flood is a hurricane now
And the hope of surviving has vanished

My lungs are tired

And my mind is sinking

But now I know

*why storms are named after people