this is me
thinking back
to the 'me' i was before,
and pretending
that i am that same 'me'.

i'm going to pretend
that i still believe
that you, my love,
my very first love,
would also be my last.

i'm going to pretend
these ******* tears that
don't have the nerve to stop
are the soft kisses
you planted on my cheeks
every peaceful morning.

i'm going to pretend
this extra chub on my hips
are your hands wrapped around my waist,
protecting me
from the harsh words
of the outside world.

i'm going to pretend
our 'forever' ring
isn't abandoned somewhere in nevada,
thrown out the car window
in a terrifying moment of rage,
like lightning
that you're sorry to see go.

i'm going to pretend
you scoot closer to me
not to ask me what the homework was
for history class,
but to play with my hair,
twisting it around your fingers
and telling me you love the color of it
when you're the only one
who did.

i'm going to pretend
you still glare at any boy
who tries to hit on me,
stepping up so your body is in front of mine
like a lion,
fierce and daring and gorgeous,
instead of remembering
the night you told me to move on,
because you already had.

i'm going to pretend
that you're not the most
excruciatingly beautiful thing
i've ever seen,
full of angles and cheekbones and gold,
like a paragraph over a paragraph
of confessions.

i'm going to pretend
that when you say
'i love you',
it's not just in my memory.

if you sigh
and tell me that he doesn’t love you,
if you sigh
and say he’ll eventually forget about you,
i will remind you.

i’ll remind you
that all of those whispered
sweet nothing’s
become everything
when it’s late at night
and your limbs are so
wound up
that you can’t tell whose
is whose anymore.
when there are actions to
back the sweet everything’s up,
soft temple kisses
like praying for a peaceful night,
a warm hand on the small of your back.
sweet,
everything and anything sweet.
but not nothing.

i want a love
that will make me feel
like the world
was made just for the two of us,
the stars revolving around our lives
like they're connected by a red thread.

i want a love
that will be so strong
it will burn the world to pieces,
and then
build it all back up again.

i want a love
that people will remember,
one that strangers
on the street
will be able to feel
just by looking at our smiles,
and the light in our eyes
when we're around each other,
the others' presence
simply just enough.

i want a love
that will last
longer than a lifetime,
one that would have us
shifting in our graves,
one that would be spelled out
in story books
and love songs.

i want a love,
this love,
to be between you and me,
because darling,
i would do anything for you,
hold your hand,
kiss your tears,
know your mother,
make you tea,
plan out dates,
take you to new york city,
paris,
collect sands from the moon,
if only you would ask.

she's six years old,
and every morning
her mommy would sit in her room
and braid her hair for her.
she's six years old,
and her mommy and daddy
both got home before six,
and the family ate dinner together.
she's six years old,
and her mommy and daddy
still love to cuddle
before they fall asleep,
their limbs tangled together
like twisted tree branches.

she's twelve years old,
and she braids her own hair now,
her mom doesn't get out of bed
early enough anymore.
she's twelve years old,
and she eats dinner alone in her room,
only to lean against the door
to listen to her parents fight.
she's twelve years old,
and her parents sleep on opposite
sides of the bed.

she's fifteen years old,
and she leaves her hair down
so it will hide her face.
she's fifteen years old,
and her parents rarely come home
before nine.
she's fifteen years old,
and she doesn't eat dinner anymore,
squeezing at the chub in her cheeks
and on her stomach,
the nonexistent gap between her thighs.

she's seventeen years old,
and she doesn't know where her father went.
all she knows
is she hasn't seen him since her birthday
last year.
her mother rarely works.
her hair's even longer.
she barely remembers
what dinner is,
and sometimes
she just gets
very,
very
tired.
she's seventeen years old,
and she's completely certain
that life
is too exhausting
for her to go through.
she's seventeen years old,
and she's ready to give up
and make it easy for herself
once more.

It’s dark, and I know you can’t hold it in anymore.
It’s over, your secrets rotting all over the floor.
Because that very first night,
with my fairy lights.
Stand at the stairs even though we’re afraid of heights.
In my head, clear as day, I can see it
all now, all now, all now.
And then it’s your birthday, with all your duct-taped packages.
Expecting a present but finding broken promises.
Your voice on the phone,
we’re both at home,
I can hear it
all now, all now, all now.
One week later and we’re both smiling,
ignoring the problems that have a habit of piling.
Four in the morning,
I hear your dad snoring,
I remember it
all now, all now, all now.
Then we’re listening to them harmonize in ‘Over Again’,
feeling as if we’re leaning over more than we can bend.
And the sunlight is making dots through my blinds,
like little memories I can’t help but find.
In my head,
never dead,
I can see it
all now, all now, all now.
And I can hear him now, singing you lullabies.
In four years after you’ve told your home goodbye.
Under the stars,
from afar,
I can picture it
all now, all now, all now.
Now I’m in class, ten digits light up my phone screen.
You tell me you couldn’t take it, you finally came clean.
Red and blue lights and distant relatives,
I hope you are starting a life that will let you live.
Cold metal bars and a filed case,
collected all the old family pictures you could bear to take.
I hope you find peace of mind,
I hope they learn they should’ve been kind,
I hope you remember me,
remember it,
remember them,
remember us
all now, all now, all now
all then.

i get tidal waves of missing you,
after only a couple of hours.
the waves are strong and demand attention,
and i have to find a little clip or picture of you
laughing, or smiling, or talking,
simply just being
so the water will calm down
and stop drowning me in segmented thoughts of everything about you,
if only for a couple more days .

a boy so passionate that he melted the stars like wax,
his words so powerful they wriggled underneath the asphalt pavements
and cracked their way back up again.
his voice so soothing it ran into dreams
and made its way into peoples’ minds.
his smile so breathtaking that once it was gone
you forget how to want to breathe at all.
his laugh so happy you swear bubbles of light
could burst inside of you and make your skin glow
like a thin layering of the sun, and you wouldn’t find it strange.
his love so real that it could’ve created cities, actual ones,
with houses and skyscrapers and black gum on the cracked gray sidewalk
and lost pet papers taped to the lamp posts and flickering street lights in need of repair.
he was surreal, everybody he knew he had wrapped around his entire being,
protecting him and loving him
to the maximum point of love.

all except for me.
i was held in his palm,
ready to be curled into a fist when he was angry,
ready to run through his hair when he was nervous.
ready to rub at his face when he was tired,
ready to be slammed on the surface of a table when he was outraged.
there through it all,
every single wreck of an emotion he had inside him.
it didn’t make me love him any **** less.

i miss him so much.
oh my god, i actually miss him so ******* much.
what i would give to live on his hand again. if only to fall off a second time.