If I were a painter
You would ask me to paint you a story
Telling the world of how incandescent life can be
Using that time we ran through the sprinklers at a park
Glistening in the moonlight at one in the morning
As inspiration

If I were a musician
I would compose a new song
To act as the soundtrack
To the time we sat at the top of the hill
Saying our goodbyes
With only our foreheads pressed together
Like praying hands

If I were an architect
I would build a space for us
So that you could always come back
To something that reminds you of me.
You could keep your knick knacks here
To help fill the house of your smell
For me to visit while you're away.

If I were an astronomer
I would make you a constellation
To help you find your bearings
Whenever you feel out of place.

If I were anything else
Anything with more talent
Would I still mean such little to you?

I have a tendency
To gravitate towards things
I cannot have
I am in a constant battle with
Air particles
Blocking their attempts
To bring me closer to you
But i cannot have you
Therefore
I am constantly
Fighting against gravity
But Einstein once said
That gravity cannot be blamed
For people falling in love
So instead
I'll just blame
You.

How is it possible
For you to feel so empty
You are anything but
Hollow.

To the boys who just want to touch me
You must know that I am not a momentary happiness type of person
Overthinking is my forté
My name is not chastity
Nor is it easy rather
Difficult and complicated
Hard to crack open
There is no sweet center waiting to be divulged
I am more like the sun
A ball of pure fire that burns at the touch
Anxious at the thought of unfamilar palms and fingertips
Meant to be admired from a distance
I will warn you not to get close to me
For magnets swim in my blood
And I cling to no extent
I am
Surrounded by a force field
I do not let down my guard
So if you want to touch me
You must first
Learn to love me.

I once read
That in 7.6 billion years
The sun
Having reached its maximum size
Will shine 3,000 times brighter
Than it does now
I have always wondered
How it is possible
To know such a thing
When 100 years
Is beyond a lifetime
How we could possibly
Look so far into the future
When now seems like an eternity
And tomorrow is miles away
How can we embrace the moment
When we are constantly being told to plan ahead
And what's the point
Of waiting 7.6 billion years
When the sun is already
Shining
And the moon
Already loves her?

I don't know what I want but—
I know I don't have it.

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f