Sometimes being a poet
means being very sad
yet being very sad
does not mean
that people will know that
and that
makes me very sad

I make things up sometimes
I'd like to think
that I will look out the window one morning
to see you standing there
I'd like to think
that we walked up that hill
hand in hand
I'd like to think that I'll never see you again
but I make things up sometimes.
and sometimes reality kicks in
and I'm so disappointed
that I can't help
but to just keep on
making things up
I'd like to think
that I'm not crazy
but you like crazy
like a fat kid loves cake
and like I love you
like I loathe you
so maybe you'd like to
show up outside my window
or hold my hand
to go up that hill
that hill where all my pets are buried
along with the hope I had
for you to come home one of these mornings

It is how it is
we all just laugh it off and go home
to our spindly bed frames
and our burnt out Christmas lights from last year
It was how it was
a home that once held a soul
a dog that **** on the carpet whenever we left
and even a few fish
It is how it is
the coffee is, and always will be
too strong
and I keep getting holes in my socks
from the one nail that keeps trying
to jump from the ground
and land on the wall
to hold a painting of you
when you were okay, too.

how am i supposed to forget about you
when i spend every night thinking about you
and it never gets any easier
there was so much left unsaid
undone
we never graduated to climbing across the bottom of the golden gate bridge
we never went to new york together
we never held hands under the stars
actually, we did hold hands under the stars
but not nearly enough
i can't write about anything else
i can't even think about anything else
i go through my days
finding songs that remind me of those times
and even the happy ones
snake their way into my bones
twist their soft fingers through my hair
and gently pull it out
crush my skull with all the things we sang in the car
burn like the tips of our fingers
when we pass over a cigarette
and fumble
like we always did
i wish these scars would stay forever
but they always have a way
of fading
unlike you

if we're thinking in terms of heads and hearts
what have i got to show?
my head is where my heart is
and my head is also where my head is
over thinking, over thought
jumping from swings never
took so long

last night
i cried for you
but only for a little while
i hated you once
but not anymore
i only hate you when you're around
and i can only really love you when i see you
you've got a face for a smile
and only choice few would understand
just how ******* hilarious that is
i hate how i can say something
that will make you laugh for 20 minutes straight
but i can't tell you anything serious
i hate how you kept a vegetable in your car until it rotted
because you found it on the side of the road
and thought it was funny
it sure ******* was
i still have pictures of you on my camera
that i haven't developed
because face it
i'm cheap.
i hate how i keep talking about you in present tense
when i haven't seen you in almost 7 months
you still hang on my wall
you still linger in photographs
i still look you up on google sometimes
to see if you got that crap off your record yet
the further along these months go
the better.
because once it gets to 12
maybe you'll come home
maybe you'll even look the same
i ******* hate how hopeful i am
i hate all this
but i still hope
that i can see you again someday

when i was little,
i thought that oyster crackers were made from oysters
so i refused to eat them
because oysters are gross
when i was little,
i liked dunking my head into a pool
because wet hair was fun hair
when i was little,
i wore a tutu
or i wore nothing
none of those things hold true anymore
oysters are actually pretty good
and i can't have soup without crackers
wet hair freezes on the way to my car
and let's be honest
i don't look good in a tutu
and i sure as hell don't want to look at myself naked.