"i can't box you"* he says to me
narrowing his firewood eyes
the silver air breathing spring
i get closer to the warmth of his body
and smile-

because i can box myself so ******* perfectly
it's the thing i hate the most
i'm your typical straight A
anghsty teenager
who never called herself a poet
but spends her days writing
to boys who never loved her
and a dad who was never there
i had a photography phase-
which girl hasn't?
took pictures of people
when they weren't looking
finding beauty in others
when what i needed most
was to find beauty in myself
went through an anorexic phase
i'm better now-
skinnier than before, but,
i eat a single 1200 calorie meal
but take my coffee without sugar
(saving the dime and spending the dollar)
tried finding myself by hurting myself
and even though the blades disappeared after a while
the pain kinda lasted
but you know, it's not all that bad
i mean, i eat, i sleep, i jog, i read
i sing in the shower
i live in a house with a mom who loves me
a sister who loves me so much that she hates me
i'm your typical kid
stuck between self-worship and self-loathing
loved taylor swift,
loved fallout boy
get the picture now?
thought that rebelling would give me fulfillment
cut my hair and dyed it orange
ran away to my best friend's house
watched her have *** with boys twice her age
sat alone in a corner away from their embraces
because the black eyeliner and leather jacket
still hadn't seeped their way into my heart
(don't touch me i'm afraid)
i had my first kiss at 16
i had *** at 17
i had my first pregnancy scare at 18
(don't worry we used protection)
i promised to marry him
but kept him a secret because my parents wouldn't approve
come on-
does it get more 'boxable' than that?

'you're so different.' he mumbles
between breaths tainted with the taste of my skin
i play with his fingers
(i think i'm in love with the birthmark on his knuckles)
he takes my silence for agreement
and i kiss him goodnight
driving back to my white-picket fence house
taking off my shoes before entering
my mom doesn't like ***** shoes on the carpet.

who knows if the moon’s
a baloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky—filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their baloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where

always
            it’s
                   Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves

as is the sea marvelous
from god’s
hands which sent her forth
to sleep upon the world

and the earth withers
the moon crumbles
one by one
stars flutter into dust

but the sea
does not change
and she goes forth out of hands and
she returns into hands

and is with sleep….

love,
    the breaking

of your
        soul
        upon
my lips

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

i have found what you are like
the rain,

            (Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
                                  with thinned

newfragile yellows

                      lurch and.press

—in the woods
                      which
                              stutter
                                        and

                                              sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
                  your kiss

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

I have only two desires:
To feel and be felt