Communication is the key
but my hands are shaking
as I start the ignition

-h.w.

Surely it isn't healthy
to be this attached to someone
who has only ever called me beautiful
when his mind was soaked in alcohol

-h.w.

We don’t talk so often anymore
and you are miles away
but I hope you know
that you remain my home

and lately I've been feeling homeless

-h.w.

I can feel you losing interest in me,
and pretty soon you'll be gone
and I’ll be alone again
forced to dwell on all the sweet things
you don’t remember telling me
when you were drunk

-h.w.

Buried my face deep
in your hair and mumbled soft
words that make me shy
-h.w.

He told me commitment was too hard
with a cigarette in his mouth
and tattoos across his skin

-h.w.

You called me ****
and I laughed

Because I am so much more than that

-h.w.

I sat outside tonight
and watched them smoke their cigarettes
as the campfire mingled with my lungs

As the smoke cleared
and the light faded
I thought to myself

that I would much rather
inhale you

-h.w.

I didn't know it was possible
to smell you on my skin
so long after I had scrubbed away
any evidence that you had been there

yet you still linger
a ghost among my perfume
miles away
and alive in my senses

-h.w.

What if you find someone new? What if you already have? What if it’s all a game? What if she’s better for you than I am? What if you never really meant what you said? What if tomorrow I don’t hear from you? What if tomorrow I do hear from you? What if I can’t handle this weight on my chest? What if my lungs give out? What if I love you? What if you don’t love me? Do you love me?

What if you mean what you say? What if you’re telling the truth? What if I’m important to you? What if you want to make this work? What if this works? What if I get what I want? What if I’m it for you? What if I love you? I do love you. What if you love me? Do you love me?

What then?

-h.w.

I write love letters
to the oxygen in your lungs
and give thanks
to the trees who allow you to breathe

what a blessing it is
to exist alongside you.

-hw

My Mother told me
that today was the first day
of the rest of my life

                                                                                        I want you in it.

"Baby I'm still in love, but you never even respond."

“I want you more than I love you,” He said.

You would think that by now
I’d be able to read you
but I cannot

I am a prisoner to your subtleties,
a captive of your cluelessness,
tangled so helplessly in your mixed signals
your emotions are the secrets
whispered just past my ears
so intriguing

yet

so out of reach

-h.w.

I hope you realize the mistake
you made
when you broke a poet's heart

My heart is an ink well
and you are my feather pen

-h.w.

My parents warned me
about drugs in the streets
and the boys who would break my heart

but they never mentioned the drugs
with dark brown eyes and a heartbeat
who would fix me
before I even knew I was broken

-h.w

I am so sorry
for not being able to
keep us both afloat

-h.w.

"Love is the easy part,
it's everything else that's hard."

I love you

Every interpretation of that phrase
proves to be true
when it comes to me
about you

-h.w.

If I had written this 2 years ago (or maybe even a month ago) I’d say my perfect man had to look a certain way, talk a certain way, and to act a certain way. He would have had to worship the goddesses in my laughter, and be able to unlock the parts of me I’d hidden away.

But as I grow older, the days seem shorter and I know that at one point I wanted a man with stars in his lungs and galaxies in his eyes, who could fill in all the cracks of my broken soul, but now I just can’t say that’s true.

Because darling, you don’t look the way I imagined my perfect man, but I couldn’t imagine myself with any other body on this world. The way our fingers intertwine in that funny sort of way because mine are so small and always a little too cold, and yours are long and always a little too warm, and the way my head always bumps against your shoulder when we walk because you’re just 3 inches short of being a whole foot taller than me. No, our bodies weren't destined to fit each other. But every time I see yours across the room walking towards me, I get enough nervous butterflies to fill the extra inches, and warm my shaky hands.

And sweetheart, you don’t always show me the love I wish you would; your words aren't always what I’d hope they’d be. Often our conversations don’t go as I planned them to. But I won’t forget the nights I lay awake thinking about the way your un-wished, unplanned words caused me to believe in something more than physical attraction. The way my smile felt like it was going to split my face in two, and the way I laughed even though nothing was particularly funny.

Kid, you never really act the way I want you to, and honestly that’s my favorite thing about you. You are nothing like me, you walk with confidence, like every room is lucky to hold your footsteps. You speak loudly and without inhibitions, because your mind isn't plagued with the fear of others as mine is. And that scares the daylights out of me, but it is impossible to remain invisible when I walk with you. The way you take my hand, and force me forward as if to say, “Yes, I am here, but she is too.”

No, you don’t look, talk, or act the way I imagined my perfect man.

Because you are not the man of my dreams, you are my entire world.

-h.w.

The world will try to tell you to move on, to forget, to suppress, but you must not let them convince you. Your body will feel like it is collapsing into itself, your lungs will stop working, and your tears will sting your cheeks. Remember to feel these things. What you are experiencing is real, and physical. Remind yourself that you are physical. Press your hand to your chest and feel your broken heart continue to thrive. Notice the way your body continues to support you when everything around you seems to be crumbling.

2. Do not hide; it is not weakness you are showing. Your emotions are the armor that no one can strip from you. Cry, argue, and scream if you must. Those who question you will not understand. Remember that your emotions are temporary but they are your own. Do not offer up excuses, you do not owe an explanation.

3. Take note of those around you. They will smile and tell you that this is only a moment that will pass, and that everything will get better. Know that they have faced death, loss, betrayal, and pain. They have felt their lungs collapse and felt the sting on their cheeks. Notice how they smile. Believe them when they tell you it will get better.

4. You must move outward. Force your broken soul to mend itself. Straighten your crooked spine, and command your lungs to accept the generosity of the air. Breathe deeply. Breathe fully. Do not take shortcuts when mending your mind. Allow yourself time to appreciate the movements around you. Join them. Take note of each step that leads you closer to your goal.

5. Finally, remember that you are alive. Look toward someone with a broken heart. Take their hand. Smile. Remind them that it will get better.

He is a haiku
Tragically short and sweet
And you’re still breathless
-h.w.

The scar on my hand
from the raspberry thorns
I don't want it to fade

because it reminds me
that I was willing to bleed
for the chance to be by your side

-h.w.

I would set fire
to all the flowers in sight
and watch their petals turn to ash
just to give myself a chance
for you to see me
as beautiful
-h.w.

You want me to give you
all that I have
So I will

But before you take me
I want you to enter my soul
and search my every thought

I want you to see the stars inside of me
to feel the heat in my lungs
and the ice in my veins
Look into my heartbeat
and feel the rhythm in my fingertips

Experience the weight of my skin
against my concrete bones
Map the galaxies I have spinning in my head
and pinpoint all my scars

Take me
take all of me
I am a work of art

useless if not admired

-h.w.

I need you tonight
You are so far away now
But you are my home

-h.w.

Every time I fall in love
I tell myself it's real
That all the others
We're just lust and excitement

Yet here I am again
Without someone to hold

Why couldn't you have stayed the night?

-h.w.

It’s been 3 days since I last spoke to you, and I waited until now to write this because I wanted to make sure that I would be ok. I’m finally starting to realize that I don’t need you and soon I will hope that I don’t want you. Your words remain echos in my brain as I scratch myself clean of any wounds you may be leaving. The distance you've created is finally allowing me to see clearly that what we had was detrimental.

I spent nights thinking about your hands in mine, and days thinking about your lips on mine, and hours thinking about your words with mine, you told me that you loved me and I was foolish to believe you.

I’m telling myself I don’t need you and soon I will not want you. But even as I write this I send out prayers of SOS in hopes that you’ll throw me a life jacket.

I am reminded that I was beautiful before you told me so, and I will remain beautiful as you walk away from me. I did not give you everything for fear of being empty and look how it all turned out.

I need to realize that it would not be different if I had sold myself to you. I need to realize that if I had been more willing to give you the key, you would have swallowed it and left me chained to your words.

What we had was not love, what we had was not love, what we had was not love, I need to remind myself.

Love is a two way emotion, I cannot love you if you only lust me. You told me you’re “not that kind of guy” but look who walked away without a second glance.

What we had was not love, what we have is not love, what he gave me was not love and I should not feel obligated to set myself on fire to keep him warm.

-h.w.

I once read somewhere that if you can’t sleep at night it’s because you are awake in someone’s dreams. And every night that I lie awake because I cannot turn my brain off, that thought comes to my mind. And I know it’s weird but I start thinking about all the things I’d want to tell you if I was in your dream. I dreamt while I was awake about all the things I’m hoping for in the future. And although right now it seems so very possible, I’m scared of my own feelings at this point.

Everyone has that moment where they meet the person they spend the rest of their life dreaming with, but no one ever knows that moment until the rest of their life begins. And I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t thought about what our lives would be like together.

I’m pouring my heart out onto my notebook because I figured it’s easier than telling you in person. I’d rather live alone than with someone who doesn't understand me, and maybe that’s the reason I want to show you this. I’m a girl of too many emotions and perhaps that will die down with age but if it doesn't I want you to be able to accept me. All of me.

And I know none of this makes sense, but if you’re reading this and you still feel the same about me then I want you to know that I once read that love is when you want to share everything that makes you happy with one person.

I want you to know that at the end of every day I lay awake at night and want to tell you all about my day. I want to tell you about the jacket I found at the thrift shop, and the cool fact I learned about the human heart. I want to tell you everything. I want you to be here.

I want to write about you
you bring out the emotions I need
but right now
it hurts too much

-h.w.

All my poems are about you lately because I thought it would help. I thought it would force me to think more clearly, but all it's done is bring you to my mind more often, and it's getting to the point where I can't breathe. It would be an understatement if I said I'm desperate for your attention. I'm paralyzed by the thought of you not loving me, I didn't know that it was possible for my heart to hurt this much. How is it possible for human beings to be so addictive? How could I not see that it would end this way? I used to make fun of girls who would get so caught up on boys, because they seemed so dramatic. But now that I've tasted your lips and felt your love all I can think is please, just stay, just stay, just ******* stay.

-h.w.

Do you love me
for  who I am?
or for what I am?

lust is not *love

My body sighs when I wake up. Her feet move without prompting on a journey that leads us to the cold measurements of my worth. The first light we see each morning is not that of a  blushing pink sunrise. It is angry and red. It screams at us to wake up from a nightmare we are creating.

She will tell me she’s sorry, that she will change. I’ll tell her it’s alright. We both know I’m lying. I will take us down familiar paths hoping they lead us to different destinations. She will obediently follow, acting as a vessel for my frustration. She is the parchment I use to map out the ugliest parts of my mind.

I will tell her I’m sorry. I wish it could be different. It will be different. She will whisper that it doesn’t have to be this way. I will pretend to believe her.

I will try to love her over breakfast and carefully clothe her in layers meant to protect her from the harsh judgements of others. I tell her that someday the sun will know all the parts of her. She wonders how many parts will have been lost by then. I tell her just a few more.

All day I will twist her into molds that she was never meant to fit. She will do her best but it won’t be enough.

She will ache for rest and care and my thoughts will be screaming. We will stretch and sweat until they are quiet.

We will sit in the dark together, under so many covers and layers we aren’t sure where we end and they begin. I will feel the weight of myself in the mattress and she will apologize. I’ll tell her we can try again tomorrow. She will hope that tomorrow never comes.