i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

will you forgive me
for all the terrible things i've said
for all of the mistakes i have yet to correct
for all the times i thought i wasn't good enough
for every tear that has fallen for someone that has not deserved it
for every time i wrote a poem and didn't tell the whole truth
for every opportunity i've said no to
for every time i didn't respect myself as much as i should have
for every person i have disappointed

i will.

i will forgive myself
for all the terrible things i've said
for all of the mistakes i have yet to correct
for all the times i thought i wasn't good enough
i will forgive myself
for every tear that has fallen for someone that has not deserved it
for every time i wrote a poem and didn't tell the whole truth
for every opportunity i've said no to
for every time i didn't respect myself as much as i should have
for every person i have disappointed
i will forgive myself
and
i will forgive myself for ever even thinking that i would not

I can’t remember his dogs name
and I hope that means
eventually I won’t remember his

mom and dad,
maybe I was silly
for thinking that the seven-hour car ride could replace the tearful goodbye
and I should have known
that the goodbye doesn’t always have to be filled with tears to hurt
because for someone that cries a lot
my face stayed rather dry
and maybe that’s why it feels like I’m saying goodbye everyday
and I grew up in a household where we weren’t allowed to say we were bored
because there is always something to do
but mom and dad
when I say I’m bored
I don’t want you to take that word to bed with you
I don’t want you to look for the deeper meaning and feel lost
because that word does not mean I’m sad
because I will tell you if I’m sad
It does not mean I’m anxious
because i am already anxious
when I say that I’m bored
It doesn’t mean I’m bored of you, mom and dad.
because I could never get bored
of the tea drinking, book reading and lazy Sundays we have
so, when I say I’m bored
what I really mean is thank you
thank you for creating me into someone who isn’t afraid to leave
someone who isn’t afraid to explore
thank you for creating a home for me to come back to when I need a break from exploring
and when I say I’m bored
It means that I’ve found so much life out there that is worth living
It means I’ve found purpose in ripped notebook papers and used books
and I’ve found purpose in myself
mom and dad, When I say I’m bored
It means that I still need all of this life you have built for me
but it also means that I now know how to survive without it
and I still know
that I shouldn’t say I’m bored
because there is always something to do
thank you
for giving me a whole life of things to do
i’ll never be bored of you, mom and dad

what you did will sting me forever
but
i want you to know
that when a bee stings someone
the bee is the one that dies

I don’t want to be controlled by the monsters of my past
but here I am

i have told the story of how you destroyed me so many times
and the funny part is
that i tell it the same way every time
but this last time that i told it
it felt different
and
i have spent a long time thinking you took up more space than you actually did
because i dedicated a whole chapter of my life to you
and for a while
that was the only chapter i was reading
but
it turns out you were just another paragraph
in the story that is my life
and
my story is my favorite book to read
so i won't let you ruin my favorite book for me
you barely deserve a page
there is no way in hell i'm giving you a chapter

for this notebook
was a far better listener
than you ever were

the other morning
i told you i loved you
and i cried
and apologized
and then i cried again
and you didn't tell me right away that you loved me
but you told me to never be sorry for the way that i feel
and i think i needed to hear that
more than "i love you"

you make me feel everything at once
and
every time I look at you
I’m just happy that you’re the one who makes me feel like that

"i miss your writing"
she said to me
"i know"
i thought

i miss it too

i'm sorry
for the day that
i mistook your words for his
i can't control the comparisons
that my brain makes
and i'm not thankful for him
but i am thankful for what he taught me
and i am thankful that he brought me to you
and i will learn the difference of your words
because your words were never his
and never will be
because you are not him
and never will be
you are you
and that's why i love you

when i thought i knew
what was best for myself

when in-fact

what i knew
was the worst.

sometimes
it hurts so bad to close a chapter to your life that was so good
because there is the constant fear lingering in my mind
that maybe the next chapter won’t be as good
because when in my life will I meet another person like these people
because
sometimes
it’s hard to believe
that I could get that lucky twice

now that i have something good
will i still have something to write about
because it's easier to write about tragedy and pain
because you can't really push those things away
you can try
but sometimes hurt stays around a lot longer than happy does
but i want to be able to write about this
but sometimes it's hard
because i have to dig really deep to find the words
which scares me
because why do i need to look so hard for something
that makes me feel
so good
because it's so easy to write about being hurt
and i can't wait for the day that it becomes easier
to write about something happy

i feel guilty for not wanting to write
it's because i feel like i have
nothing
to
write
about
and i don't want to force ink out of this pen
but maybe that is exactly what i'm supposed to do
train my body to talk about the things even this pen
doesn't want to talk about
and this pen will hear it first
even before i truly understand it
and it feels weird to force myself to write
but the things is
maybe i'm not forcing myself at all

i'm afraid to be in love.
i'm afraid to be in love because i've never been in love before.
i'm afraid to be in love because i think that love is going to hurt so badly.
i'm afraid it's going to wear me down and break me until i cannot stand on my own.
i'm afraid that i'll give so much to one person and be left with nothing when they leave.
i'm afraid they'll always leave.
i'm afraid that it will hurt so much.
i'm afraid to be in love.

by telling me you didn't like it when i dyed my hair, you were telling me that you didn't like me. maybe you didn't realize that, but i did and i'll never forget it.

i really have been trying not to make everything my problem
so when my mom called me
and she told me i should be more sympathetic rather than empathetic
i knew that she was right
but mom, it doesn't make it any easier

because mom,
you taught me to pick others up before myself, even if it made it a little harder for me to stand up
because mom,
you taught me to love with my entire being, even if it ended with a tear stained pillow and broken heart
because mom,
you taught me not to say no to a good thing, even if it meant you had to help me pick up the broken pieces in the end
because mom,
you taught me that i still need to put myself first sometimes, because loving myself is the most important
and mom,
when you called me
and you told me i should be more sympathetic rather than empathetic
i knew you were right
and i want you to know that i'm trying
but it's because i grew up my entire life watching how you always put everyone before you, even if it literally wore you to the ground
and mom,
i'll appreciate that forever

so mom,
i'll promise to try and put myself first, if you'll do the same.

it's the season of feeling grateful
and the first person i want to be grateful for
is myself

when i would think about you for too long and get emotional
when i wanted to spend every minute with you
when i wanted to tell you everything
when we laughed so hard our stomaches hurt
when it became everything all at once
when i couldn't find any other words to describe how i felt
that's when i knew

i paint my nails yellow
because yellow is beautiful
and yellow makes me happy
and nothing bad can happen when the sun sets and gold streams through the windows in my house
i paint my nails yellow
because it's a reminder to smile
a reminder that there is good in this worls
so
i paint my nails yellow

you have so much to offer this world
i could see if from the moment we first met
i think
if you could just give the world an opportunity
to hold you
to love you
to support you
you would be surprised with how much love surrounds you
own who you are
and others will follow suit.

he told his mom about me
and it just made me appreciate him even more than i already did
to know that someone is proud to have me
is a feeling that i am not yet used to
to know that there is no fear in his mind
when he reaches for my hand in public
because he wants to hold it
and he doesn't care what people think
and i just feel good
because i feel lucky to be with someone
who wanted to tell their mom about me

did you know that recently, i find it hard to pick up a pen and write about anything other than you. that i find your name sprinkled throughout every poem my mind creates. that i want to so badly read my poetry to you, but it's hard enough to put it on paper, it will be so hard to show it to you. so when you asked me if any of my poems are about you, i wanted to laugh. because every poem is about you.
every line
every comma
every space
because how could i write about anything else.
when i could write about you.

once
when you were drunk
you called me
and i'm pretty sure that's the last time we had a real conversation
i remember wanting to hold on to that moment forever
because i knew
the second we hung up that phone
everything would be the same as it was before
i would go back to missing you
and you would go back
to trying to make me into someone that i wasn't
i'm sorry that i wasn't all that you thought i was
but i'm more sorry that you didn't see what you were missing
the night that you drunk called me
i stared at the twinkling lights above my bed
i stared at them until my eyes burned
they burned with memories soon to be forgotten
because maybe they weren't good memories anymore
and maybe i need to stop writing about you
because every time i write about you
i get reminded of that night you called me when you were drunk
because it makes me sad
that i think that's the last time we had a real conversation.

i've been happy here for so long
and I don't want leaving to change that

there are pages
upon pages
of things you may never hear

things that only my notebook
and my pen
will ever see
but that's ok.

because not everything is written for the purpose of reading
because sometimes it's not meant to be read
because reading might ruin what it is

and i'm in love with the idea of being a poet
but maybe being a poet
will be too hard

because how many thoughts
can this notebook hold?

but as i sit here and write
into this very notebook
with my favorite pen

i guess
i already am
a poet

what if i fall in love with you
i'm so scared that i might fall in love with you
and i've tried not to write this poem for so long
because i feel silly for even thinking about loving you
because it hasn't been that long
because what would people say
and maybe i will fall in love with you
and that thought is so beautiful and scary at the same time
because i really want you to fall in love with me
because if i'm being completely honest
it would be a pleasure to be loved by you

you say you won't hurt me
but that won't keep me from being afraid you will

every time
i let someone ready my poetry for the first time
they all say the same thing
"i had no idea you wrote like this"
those same words came out of
so
many
different mouths
and i'm still deciding if i find comfort in them or not
i keep asking myself
why not just share with everyone
why not put it out there for all to see
why not
why not
why not
because if i do that
is it even for me anymore?
maybe this should stay something special
for only the worthy to see
this isn't for the heartbreakers or the toxic friends
not everyone who has a poem written about them
deserves to hear that poem
but
the other part of me is so proud
and i want everyone to know
because sometimes
i want everyone to know
i write like this

I want to skip to the part where it’s beautiful
but maybe the struggle of getting there
is what makes it beautiful

you asked to read one of my poems tonight
and i watched you as your eyes floated over my words
i tried so hard to read your expression and failed
but no matter what
i was so proud of what i had written
and i was so proud that you wanted to read it at all
you asked me when i had written it and and you seemed shocked when i said
"this morning"
you put your hand in mine and kissed my shoulder
you were proud of me
you didn't have to say anything i could tell
i could tell
i let you read one of my poems tonight
and i know it's only a matter of time
until you are reading this one too

i'm sorry that i keep talking about how lucky i feel
but if i am being completely honest
i'm just trying to soak it all in while i can
because i cannot control the fear in the back of my mind
that is telling me this has to be too good to be true
because it terrifies me everyday that i like you as much as i do
because i don't want to be hurt again
because losing you would probably hurt the most
because for once in my life i feel like i deserve this
and i feel like i deserve you
and because i do feel lucky
and i'm sorry that i feel like i have to apologize for that

someone asked me about you today
and for the first time
i didn't want to talk about you
not because it hurt
or because it brought up old feelings
or because i miss you
but because for the first time
i felt like i had better things to be talking about
and you were not one of those things

i have not written in a little bit
and i know it's because i'm happy
and i am healthy
but i have to remember what got me here in the first place
because if i didn't write my first poem
i would have drowned myself in my tears
i would have snapped my pen in half
i would have left my brain crowded with too many thoughts
too many sour feelings
i would have left unused notebooks
under my bed
if i didn't write my first poem
i would not feel this happiness
and this health
that i do right now

with you
it hurts less
to think about
the things
that hurt me
the most

sometimes days are good
simplistic and wholesome
and good
and there is no reason behind it
there is no hidden meaning
and it’s time to realize
that days are supposed to be good
and you are allowed to have good days
without wondering the reason why

the way you wrap your arms around me
and give me a hug
when you get drunk
makes me sad
because you aren't able to do this when you're sober
because i think the only time you're happy
is when you have a drink in your hand
and i know that you are hurting so bad
and i feel like i don't know you well enough
to be able to take your hurt away
but i guess it isn't my job to fix you
and maybe you don't need any fixing at all
so when you tell me that you miss hanging out with me
it fills me with sadness and guilt
because i don't think i miss you as much as you miss me
because i want to so badly be your friend
but right now
i don't know if i can be friends with someone
who can only be happy when they have a drink in their hand

angry was not the right word
and i'm sorry
that i chose that word
but my tears turned into frustration
and my frustration mimicked angry
because sometimes i don't know how to say how i feel
and sometimes the wrong word comes out
and i'm sorry
that this time
the wrong word was directed towards you

being with you
has made me realize that
i've already dove head first into the water
and now i'm in deep
and i've never been scared
of swimming in the deep end before
but suddenly i am
which made me realize
that i've never been much of a swimmer before
and now that i'm in
the water actually feels pretty nice

i knew what i was getting myself into the second he said "no feelings attached" i said "of course" but my tear stained pillow said differently. you told me i made the first move, but you made the first move away. but silly me, i should have known the only way out was going to be painful. because, when it comes to me there are always feelings attached.

it seems quite unfair
that i am the one who ends up hurt
when all you did was dig your knife into my chest
over and
over and
over again
you took something from me that was never yours to take
and it really seems quite unfair
that i will suffer for it
and you will not
it seems quite unfair
that my tears will be the ones streaming down my cheeks
and your face will be forever unmarked
i cannot describe what you did
but it seems quite unfair
that you did anything at all

this is me
writing about being happy
and i still don't really know how to do that
which is why
this poem is barely even a poem
but i need to learn how to write when i'm happy
so for now
this will have to do.