For us to understand humans, we must first detach ourselves.

I judge people
for being judgemental.

Oh, the sweet irony.

Paint the night sky with twinkling stars, distant from one another but collectively emitting a spectacular glow;
Paint the spun ivory clouds across the interminable blue, watching the softness suffocate sunlight streaming below;
Paint your frayed chocolate braids beside curved, smiling full lips in the middle of a vivid, adorned cottage;
Paint the passionate red of blood that stains our hands as they clasp together like imperfect puzzle pieces, and the jagged breathing that fogs the dusk;
Paint yourself where you are loved--
Paint yourself with me.

Listening to a song you heard a million times before,
in a past not distant from your present,
but finding a spiritual connection with the lyrics,
the instruments, the singer's voice--
you find newfound meaning.

Then you realise, it is not the song,
which has changed,
but you.

I replay
the uproarious sound of your kidneys
at 4 AM; you tucked in a comfortable quilted bed,
and the curve of your glistening elbow
resembling the crescent moon
that my eyes averted from
because they fixated on you
instead.

I was asking around for poem ideas, and one of my friends told me to write about past relationships. I was looking through an old box of notes and cards and stuff that I still have, and this poem just kind of bubbled up inside of me. I'm not sure that I like it, I was just kind of writing to write and then FEELS.



When I was young
and my family told me boys (or girls) would be
"breaking down the door to date me"
I didn't realise quite how many people
would say they loved me
and how many people I'd say I loved
in a lifetime.
It's amazing how love can be given away
so freely,
so willingly
yet so painfully...
I have memories
of each one.
Lucas will always be my Percy Jackson.
Devon was a constant "babe" and "baby",
"you and me,"
and a Valentine's card/stuffed bear that I still have.
Evan was "1... 2... 3"
playing Doctor Who with my little brother,
I wonder if he still keeps that 4th grade picture
of me in his wallet?
Derick was "#dickerdoodles"
and a Valentine's card/stuffed Pikachu that I still have,
Netflix, a rainy day, a pack of cigarettes
a notebook
and a promise of New York City in a year.
Hannah was a bass
duct tape wallets
carmex,
a song lyric or three, and
"How do I love thee?"
Ellie was the Tumblr Accent Challenge
cigarettes, alcohol
a homecoming dance
and incredible music.
Magus was Zelda, movie nights, and
"I love you with all my heart,
with all that I am, with
everything I have."
Jayne was (and is) "kiddo," and now "baby girl"
JannaLee was "Stay strong, babe, and burn bright.
You're my fire; I'm your hurricane.
Those nights belong to us."
Jason L. was "Aw, butts..."
Scooty is "John SNOOOOWW",
"Groot..."
heart-to-hearts, and
Jekyll and Hyde,
#TeamApplesauce.
Travion was "Hey, let's face battle"
a note on yellow lined paper
and Hotel Transylvania.
Andrew was a lick of the lips,
my 9th Doctor,
"Hey, Nii-san."
Randi was "honeybabe" to me;
I still think that's a cute nickname.
Matt F. was "You're DIGAUGFN... I <B you."
(and I still don't quite know how to say
how much the jumble of letters "DIGAUGFN"
still makes my stomach flutter.)
I've made sure not to replicate
with current lovers things I've done
things I've said
special phrases, special actions
with past lovers
Memories are sacred, see.
I don't believe that any men or women
have hindered my ability to love
but at the same time I want to hold
the ones that I've loved
(or maybe don't want to admit to myself
that I still do love)
in the back of my brain,
in the bottom of my heart,
in my palms, rolling them into joints
and inhaling them until all that's left
is a labyrinth of white smoke and a smile,
lightheadedness and a moment of peace
I want to make this explicitly clear:
Just because I have loved many
and still hold many dear to me...
That does NOT hinder my ability to love
any given person at a time.
After breaking up with my boyfriend of 3 years
for a man whom I didn't know I could love
as much as I do
I realise that with all the people in my heart
I still have room
and as awful as it sounds,
I live in the past
as well as the present.
I can't let memories of people
things, places go
but please do remember that
I do know how to be faithful
in mind and in action.
I know how to hold only one,
how to kiss only one,
how to date only one,
how to marry only one,
how to live with only one,
when I say I'll never leave,
please believe that my words ring true
but I'm sorry...
I do not know how to love
only one.

All hipbones and collarbones,
Size 1 and 0, long flowing hair and gauges,
thigh gap and flat stomach,
you are beautiful.
All dry skin and yellow teeth,
Size 12 and 13, short, plain hair,
touching thighs and rounded stomach,
I am "beautiful" to everyone but myself.
I will be strong.
I will be stronger.
I will exercise more,
I will eat less,
I will be thinner.
Once I've lost 40 pounds,
then I might get the help everyone says
I so desperately need,
diet healthily
and work with somebody.
Until then, I will suffer through...
...because that shows strength,
and eating shows weakness,
weakness in myself.
Calories should be a foreign substance,
not an old friend,
chewing and swallowing sometimes hurts worse
than a **** lemon-juice papercut.
800 calories over my budget every **** day
when my budget is already too high?
That shows no strength.
500 calories under?
THAT shows strength.
Shows willpower.
Shows endurance.
That is what will make me thinner.
I'm setting my budget to 500 instead of 1000,
because hey,
less is more, right?

My life is a whirlwind of passing daydreams
and photographs,
those I've loved and lost
and what I've gained from screaming from the tops of buildings
after no one salutes to these ideas
that I've run up the flagpole outside.