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In Missouri we held hands at the zoo and ignored the Trotskyites ogling

In Missouri we were the main attraction. A cosmic bond, natural magnets
And she glows like no other, Miss Atomic Bomb

In Missouri it is in violent irony to your perfectly crafted nuclear family

In Missouri we pretend that we are Just Friends, so the neighbors won't know we sleep in the same bed every night

In Missouri you are hazy through the thick cotton dust sunshine at the gas station as you tap your foot without patience

In Missouri we smoke **** with your burn out brother in a cramped, humid apartment with only one AC unit and for a minute you calm down

In Missouri I float in the center of a saltwater pool and I save your little sister from drowning, or maybe it was the neighbor

In Missouri I am sitting next to you in a doctor’s office because you finally admitted you needed help

In Missouri you won’t take your lithium and I realize you’re crazier than I am

In Missouri you fall asleep behind your sunglasses on the boat and glimmer in the Ozark sun

In Missouri I see the luxury divide, something I craved to cross all my life but now feel awkward enough to refuse, I sip my beer and watch her

In Missouri I sneezed like I was ******* allergic, ate all your sisters prozac but still couldn’t get used to it

In Missouri you throw a tantrum in the heat rising from the smooth concrete driveway in the middle of suburbia waiting for your dad to get home

In Missouri I tell you that you’re manic and you yell at me in front of your family and your mother cries because she knows I am right

In Missouri it was almost the American Dream except that your little sisters are scared of you

And a thousand miles away we are suffocating in your car now, Missouri, even with the windows down, and you’re begging me to stay

Oh, you’ll miss me when I’m gone, Missouri

But if there was ever a girl who could make me lose my mind that someone is you.

In Missouri I didn’t miss you, but everywhere else I’m ashamed that I do
I had a dream you kissed me and told me you were sure. Your eyes stop shining in that place, Missouri. They become soft and melt into the sweet warm darkness that keeps you stuck to me.
I choose not to do this without you. So doesn't that count for something?
I choose not to make myself forget all the reasons you are precious.
I choose not to hate you.
I choose not to move forward without you because I know it is the right thing.
I will be steady and practice patience and send you good vibrations until the staples in your side dissolve.
I see something graceful under the grainy, stress inspired television static that blocks your peripheral thought. You are not dangerous or violent or full of hate. And when you are quiet and still in a space I swear it becomes sacred.
You are in the sticky taste of sweat and scent of hot earth in the summer. You wind your arm around mine and lace our fingers together under the dry heat of your sunroof. Casually, like errands, like something you forgot and quickly put back into place- mid conversation.
Maddie's on my mind as soon as I open my eyes this morning.
Maybe it's cause I followed her around in my head last night while we both slept.
There are few things worse than waking up unsatisfied.
Slightly haunted by the uncertainty of you,
I start my day with an empty and upset stomach.
That bottomless space that aches cannot be sewn closed.
unfamiliar words written in my handwriting by a
foreign body.
needless to say i dont remember most of that summer.  
i wonder what that girl thought she was doing laying on the beach all day.
you were mad at me for sleeping all the time, i know that much.
i'd have liked to stay awake for you too.
i do understand where your frustration comes from & the limits of your patience.
please wait for me, as i am for you.
wring out all the water & stick us in the sun like laundry in august.
we always end up by the water so i'll keep betting on beach days with you.
hold my hand and tell me what you see in the sky.
i love your brain, i think i can hear it ticking next to mine.
[Don't be mad I'm here]
You text me from across the room.
I'm not furious because you're here, I'm furious because we can't be close to each other. The present isn't a space, it is a time and in this time there are million things in the way of getting to you.
How can a space be so well lit and have no visible way to cross. The florescent light stings. I can't look at you, I can't stop. I feel your eyes on me. I lower mine, pick up my phone and write you back.
[How could I be upset to see you?]
I'm trying not to think about the way you looked at me this morning. I am suffocating in your car, Missouri, even with the windows open.
It's not easy to pretend you don't glow like no other but it's a hell of a lot harder when you're sitting right in front of me.
Don't make me close my eyes.

I'm trying to explain, in the messiest way possible, how I never stop thinking about you and you are worthy of every good vibration.
Your eyes break my heart, like maybe if you stare hard enough at me an answer will start to form. No messages appear in the salt that drips and dries on your cheeks, or mine.
November hurts. But I think I knew that already.
I don't tell you that I couldn't stop crying the day you left me in the sunshine on my back porch.
I do tell you that I am so good to you.
Your hazel eyes flood.

At the bottom of my chest,
just under my ribs,
I carry the heaviest weight.
The kind that threatens to burst and drown us both. It is a confession.
I need you to know that I love every piece of you so I start to tell you.
But I don't tell you that I never want to leave this car because you say it first.
You almost kissed me goodbye.
And like tearing flesh I pull away from you and plunge into the 'after.'
It is so heavy here.
i think that part of me will love you until the end of time

i remember i left two bobby pins on your dresser in the summer time.
when i saw you again in the fall they were still there.
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