Poetry is not just a mess of words thrown together to tell a story about the boy you adore .Poetry is the letters that ****** a reader's sight, smell, touch, taste, and hearing. Poetry is supposed to make you feel something as deeply as you love the dark haired boy with knobby knees, as you love your grandmother on her deathbed, and as you much as you love the feel of someone else's dumpling lips against your own. Poetry holds your heart up among the angels or drags your sensitivity down below dark waves of pain.

“I messed up.”
I only wish it didn’t
take you this long
to realize.
“Can we talk?”
My whole body aches,
yearning to say yes.
“Are you there?”
Yes, I am here.
“Please answer.”
I surely don’t think
I have that strength.
“I still love you.”
My heart beats,
my stomach churns.
“You were the best
thing that ever
happened to me.”
Funny,
I used to think the same
about you.
“Why aren't you answering?”
“Because for 7 months;
I waited.
You tore me apart,
it felt like I was drowning.
You didn't even look back.
Not once.
How can I just forget that?”
I hit send.
“I’m sorry…”
“I’m sorry too.”*
Except this time,
I don’t hit send.

When I was 12
I would sit and listen to
love songs and smile
and sing along,
and feel bad when people lost it.
I never understood,
how could someone be so sad?
"They are just a person"
I would think.

Now I know,
sitting up on late nights
looking at old photos
with tears streaming down my face.
Clutching my chest
wishing you were here.
Everyday is like a fight
to see how long it'll take
till you pop on my mind
and crush my soul.
Looking at the sky and knowing
somewhere you are there
and alone.

Now I know
and I hate it.

Things can't always be the
way we want them too,
and I'm trying to fall
in love with this idea
that no matter what
I end up doing with my life,

it wouldn't have
really mattered anyways.

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