December air is rather thin, chilling.
Usually, as am I around this time of year.
Somehow between endless car rides or sitting in parking lots,
something about you keeps me warm.
A promise never really meant as much
as it did when it slipped over your lips,
a hug never made me feel so protected.
You have pulled me out of this snow.
Not only this, but you have given me a hiding place.
A haven.
The thick scent of cigarettes fills the gaps
between our words,
alongside a form of comfort and communication
I never thought I'd have again.
It drifts through the air like a summer breeze,
making itself known in presence.
Making itself welcome.
For once in my life, I am not afraid of the snow.
For once in my life, I do not dread the kiss of frost
which greets me when I walk through the door.
For once in my life, I'm safe.
I have fears that you will not stay.
I don't want you to push me away.
I want to give you a reason to get up come morn,
aside from repetitive routines of
work,
eat,
sleep,
I do not want to be a routine.

When we first met
I was the cold breeze on the summer day, or a new used car that you couldn’t wait to drive
Uncomfortable at first, but kind of nice when it you got used to it
But, instead of waiting for the chills to go away, you embraced me
You took my hand and smiled at me
Reassuring me that everything was going to be okay
You promised me that you would never walk away
So, I took your hand, and I smiled back
I thought I was finally sound
I believed you would take the pain away
I remember every memory you left me with
From the sketches you would imprint on my back with your nails as I shouted your name
To the screams of regret you repeated like a ringtone as they rolled off your tongue
Every time you said my name
It was a form of art
Like your bass drum and guitar
Like your voice in the choir
Your trumpet wailing on high
But the paint was wearing thin on this masterpiece
and I was no longer your muse

As my late night drives got shorter and the air got crisp
So did our conversations
and So did our kisses
You got sad
I realized you were more broken than I, but I had no idea what to do
I was a car missing seat belts, and you got in
Every worry from before we met flooded into my head
I was sure I could hand the wheel to you
And you took it
But when I told you I couldn’t drive,
you forgot to tell me
neither could you


Your best friend was your ex
now she was gay, it was okay
She would “never swing that way”
again
Is that why you left the theatre in the middle of my very first play?
I waited for a praise, for you to take my hand at the end
Give me a rose and kiss my lips
If only I’d known that she took those instead

Here I was, along for the ride
Speeding down that highway with my hair in the wind,
I put myself in your hands
But they got shaky
You asked me to drive for a bit
Of course I was scared
I still hadn’t learned
But it was you
No wouldn’t fly

While you sat back
And grabbed that wheel, knuckles white
I bit my lip until I tasted blood
I went in head first and I hit the gas,
Telling myself

"Everything is gonna be okay"

then I saw the tree
Blocking the path
We were both getting bad

I was left at the wheel again,
I was shaky, short breaths

You were the elongated sigh
As you jumped out the door

And I crashed

On a cold winter night, a rusty old car you couldn’t wait to get rid of
Uncomfortable, and you couldn’t get used to it
When we first met

You promised you would never walk away

You were right

You ran

I am a human being
I am a human being
I am a human being
I am honest
I am strong
I am beautiful
I can be friends with whoever I want
I can protect myself
I can defend myself
The world is not out to get me
I am me
I am my own person
I do not exist at the expense of others
MY life choices should not control someone else's
Someone else's life should not control mine
I am not property
I am allowed to roam
I am allowed to be depressed for no reason
I am allowed to be happy for no reason other than I am happy
I will not cheat
I will not lie
I have never cheated
I have never lied in that matter
I never will
I am trustworthy
I am not my mother
I am not my father
I am not my past
I am honest
I am careful
I am hushed
I am scared
I am in love, and it terrifies me
Love controls me
Love tells me to not have friends
Love tells me I cannot stray
I cannot be by myself
I am not allowed to talk to anyone it doesn't know
I am not allowed to talk to anyone it does know
I have restrictions
MY love is bold
MY love is loud
It does not care what it does
It only wants to exist alone
So when my love exists
I do not

I want to know your small parts
Every little scar
Every freckle
Every dimple
Every direction your hairs decide to go
I want to know your small parts
I want to know your favorite board game
I want to know the smallest things that steal your attention
I want to know your favorite color
I want to know your darkest nights
I want to know your favorite snack foods
I want to show you so much beauty
I want to show you how wonderful you are
I want to know you

I was sitting beside my best friend,
catching up with friends I hadn't seen since they graduated
when you sat down,
uninvited.
It didn't take a genius to tell
my throat was already closing
at the sight of you.
It had been over a year and a half since
I had last seen your face,
yet here I sat,
less than three feet from my ******.
I received two texts immediately.
one:
"I'm sorry."
From my best friend, who knew everything.
two:
"Are you okay?"
From my other best friend, who knew nothing,
but felt like something was wrong.
Wrong.
Suddenly, everything about that night felt wrong.
I choked on every sentence as it forced its way out of my suddenly tightening throat,
pretending that you were not there.
You see, I've spent so much time
pretending you were not there
that I had begun to wonder if maybe,
you were just a nightmare.
Yet here I sat staring my old friends in the eyes,
more focused than anticipated.
They could tell.
You see, it's a small town,
I didn't need to tell everyone what you did for them to find out.
I thought I was doing well until you spoke to me.
The first words you had directly spoken to me in almost
two and a half years.
"I knew I'd see you here."
I blocked out the rest.
I'd like to block you out, too,
but it seems recurring dreams,
nightmares,
are supposed to teach you something.
I'd like this to make sense,
but the only things I ever learned from you
was to never let my guard down again.
To not love that deeply,
deeply enough that I feel forced to do anything
to prove my love.
I learned I should never have to prove my love.
I should never have loved you.

When you sat across from me and spoke my way,
I couldn't help but think I'd never thought I was going to see you again.
I couldn't help but remember every sleepless night,
such as right now,
where I can't help lie awake in fear you somehow know
just what I am doing,
when I have had you blocked on facebook for three years.
But it's a small town.
Word travels, secrets are never truly safe.
Hushed confessions hop eardrum to eardrum
until they're nothing more than a subtle gasp.

When I finally pulled away from the restaurant,
I drove in so many circles that I got lost--
there are only five roads downtown.
When you finally pull away,
maybe I'll sleep for once--
there is only one of you,
and I wish there were
none.

Your creativity is showing me a spectrum of colors I myself had never seen,
and though overwhelming,
it's mesmerizing all the same.
The shades of your voice are enough to get me lost in the art,
the cool and warm tones of your words leave me wondering just what season it is.
Similar to the Wisconsin weather I endure daily,
so warm and embracing one moment,
nearly as cold as the deadest of winter the next.
You told me your worry about yourself because of how your mind works.
That over the last two years,
it has not mattered who we've seen,
what we've endured,
we always come back to this.
And can I just say that
I never thought I'd be in this kind of relationship.
Late night phone calls and
distanced "I love yous"
followed by confessions I fear I'll never admit once the line goes dead.
We always joked we'd marry when we were younger,
but the reality of it is becoming realer than I'd ever imagined.
Through it all, I just want you to know that
I wouldn't mind getting lost in your voice one day.
The spectrum you show me,
almost as vast as the space between you and I.
And yes, I really have thought about this-
because I consider you my best friend
And that's something no amount of distance will change.

My dad would always warn me to be careful when falling in love;
I fall too quickly for my own good.

So on the days leading up to the moment you arrived,
I made sure I steadied my footing,
readying myself for the moment I would.
I could tell I was going to.
I wanted to be prepared.

But as I stood in that airport, my knees were already trembling.
It seemed as though the moment I saw you coming down that escalator,
I lost my footing.
All of a sudden everything around me had disappeared.
All at once, I was falling.

I wondered if skydiving rivaled that thrill, and the fear.
My heart never stopped pounding.

When we got back to the car,
I kept staring at you as though you'd vanish.
My mouth grew dry with dread.
I worried I would wake any moment and all of this would have been nothing but a dream.
But I didn't, and you remained.

We stepped into my room and everything blurred.
I heard nothing but the air rushing by me as I fell harder each moment.
I turned to you, begging for clarity, and was met with a kiss.
For a moment, I could see again.
I warned you I was petrified.
You held me.

I saw the pieces of me I had lost when falling in the past come hurtling towards me as I fell.
When I woke up to you, your chestnut irises were still closed,
yet your breathing stabilized my rugged heart rate.
I was completely unaware of where the ground was,
or how hard I'd hit it,
but I savored the sight as though it were still all just a dream.

Each and every moment with you,
I feared the outcome.
I prepared myself with every aching hour for the impact.
My breathing was so unsteady, I felt on the verge of collapsing.
I closed my eyes. I couldn't let myself see what was coming.

As we sat on my bed, and you held me in your arms,
you begged me to open up.
You insisted I open my eyes,
and I fought tears as our breathing synchronized.
I could see the ground now.
The panic clawed its way out of my heart, up my throat,
and I felt my body shake as the words finally spilled out.

I braced myself.
I winced, expecting the pain.
I had anticipated every bit of me to shatter.
I was ready for there to be nothing left of me to break.

But I didn't break.

I could tell the world around me was still again,
but I wasn't on the ground.
I was not broken.
I was pieced back together, carefully.

You kissed me, breathing into me the life I thought I'd given up.
I finally opened my eyes, and as my vision focused,
there sat every piece of me I thought I had thrown away for each and every heartbreak before.
The parts of me that I had lost so long ago, that I assumed nobody would miss or remember,
sat upright, polished, and presented like precious gems.
The feeling in my body returned,
and I turned to those perfect orbs in disbelief--

you caught me.

You never let me go.

It was then that I realized that all the while I had readied myself to fall,
I had already spent my life preparing my heart for you.

So when my dad reminds me to be careful this time, I'll let him know:

I was, but I never needed to be.
You were right here all along,
waiting to catch me.

February 16th, 2013.
"Hopefully, this time I can sleep."

You worry that you wouldn't be able to give me the world,
when in reality there's not much to give me but your all;
giving me all of you is giving me the world.
I'm not saying you've nothing to offer.
I'm just saying that you don't have to try to give me anything;
breathing your air is privilege enough.
You've not stopped being my world since the day you left.
It worries me, because the only reason I'm certain, is I don't doubt us.
I only pray I can become your world again.
I'm homesick, I feel as though I've been lost in the stars.
Maybe that's why you said you see them in my eyes.
It's the filter that so finely differentiated you and I.
I've always had my head in the clouds, and I worry that the weights on your shoulders prevent you from seeing things from my perspective.
I told you from day one;
you make my heart feel like it's floating.
I just haven't come down yet.

the wind is howling, untamed aggression singing tirelessly.
distance is relentless.
it begs and screams to be acknowledged, until the day it is pardoned and we meet.
the howling ceases.
all at once it is calm, the now softened breeze humming sweetly its truest intentions.
your fingertips graze my face as gently as a sunrise, i can hear the morning doves as you whisper my name. the light you emit convinces me that all this dark was only temporary.
but as your journey back to new york ensues and i can do nothing but watch you disappear, the world around me dims. the sun sets, and i am once more met with the wind.
your scent haunts my pillows like a ghost. it caresses my face when i do my best to rest, it comes out of seemingly nowhere and i am met with thoughts of yesterday.
all at once the winds are roaring again, beckoning the inevitable world of darkness i had momentarily forgotten.
i am swallowed in their turmoil, straining my eyes for the comfort of your light.
but the sun is no longer in my sights.
this wind continues to howl, still as angry as can be, and i beg that i might stumble into the sun again. i cling to the shirts you left as though your body remains inside.
i cling to the memories of day, and when you were mine.

1:42am
10/5/2015
i want to scream to the sky
the same sky that i told id love you forever
and you promised youd never leave
and scream with all the breath left in me
that i am terrible at keeping time
and you are terrible at keeping promises

My dresser drawer still smells like you.
That's why I always keep it closed.
I do not remember what you smell like,
I also don't remember what the hell is in that drawer.
That's close to meaningless considering
I somehow still remember your birthday,
and your middle name,
and the way you like your noodles cooked.
I hate that I have such a great memory
and I love when I forget,
because I worry you forget that I existed.
Like a bad dream you once had,
you've grown out of it.
I've grown out of you,
and maybe I've grown out of the shirt of yours
still sitting in that drawer.
I guess I do remember what's in that drawer.
I hate that I remember,
but love that I forgot
the way you smell,
because smelling is tasting,
and I could not bear to taste you once again.
The aftertaste of regret still lingers
when I hear her name.
I wonder if she tastes like me.
Like me,
the me I couldn't be.

Once, I read about a theme park
The roller coasters reached the bottoms of the clouds and
the speeds broke the sound barrier
Children went there daily
They laughed and they screamed and they smiled from dawn until dusk
They won prizes
and they were very much alive

I went to look up that theme park last month
The rides had all shut down
And they were completely still
Nobody had touched it in years
The streets of this city that were once full of life
Were dull and motionless
The windows were broken
The prizes were gone
The bright lights of all colors
were now empty shattered bulbs

The only emotion was empty
All of the happiness and joy
And the laughter and life
Was completely gone
I think of this often
How one place can hold such life one day
and the next be as good as dead?

I saw myself in this corpse
My body, decaying
The joy I would feel and the dancing and laughter has
now all turned to a blank slate of gray
My mind had shut it all away and I am nothing
I once held better days
But now I am a broken roller coaster
Abandoned and corroded
Because I once got so high
And I once moved so fast

But now I am frozen in my place, hidden away

Forgotten like an erased word off a paper

Once, I read about a theme park

And all I learned was I am empty too

It was the first time we'd seen each other
since we broke up.
We were sitting on a picnic table bench
at the last place we went on a date ,
crying our eyes out.
You saw the tears in my eyes
and you choked on yours.
"What are we?" You laughed through the tears.
"A mindfuck. A glorious, incredible mindfuck."
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood,
and you pulled me into your arms.
You didn't let me go until I stopped crying.
"I never knew there was a such thing as an intimate hug," you announced.
I laughed.
You pulled back and put your forehead to mine,
and I didn't kiss you.
I stopped myself.
"Are we thinking the same thing right now?"
You chuckled, voice wavering.
I responded, "Yes."
That was the first time I didn't tell you I loved you when I felt it.
I wish I did.

When I opened the Christmas gifts you got for me and vice versa.

On the way out to eat, you looked over your right shoulder just to observe traffic and all I could think about was how clear your eyes were from my view.

Every single time we say goodbye on the phone.

When we were sitting in Qdoba and you grabbed my hands, stared at me, smiled, and chuckled, insisting I was cute.

We were looking at the Waukesha skyline, and as we turned to get back to your car and escape the December cold, you tripped over the last standing Christmas tree that overlooked the city and I laughed hysterically.

When we raced across the Target parking lot and you beat me by a landslide, but you almost knocked a family over as you hardly stopped yourself from running into them.

The first time we ever skyped, my heart stopped as you looked at your whiteboard, doing homework. I still stop myself from saying it, every time you do.

When I was sitting in the passenger seat of your car in the Target parking lot, and you leaned over and kissed me. No warning. Just the kiss. You pulled back and smiled, forehead to forehead. Neither of us said one word.

When you spoke to me in nothing but Dance Gavin Dance lyrics for practically a whole day.

When you told me that this wasn't the relationship you thought it would be. I bit my tongue and held back tears.
I let you vent.
I let you disconnect.

Why does my mind do this?
My heart still feels funny,
It was thudding so fast.
I thought I was getting over you.
But when I heard my front door open,
the excitement of seeing you came,
even though you didn't come with.
The more that I think about you,
the more you just seem like a really good dream I had;
I've accepted that you're no more than a memory.
I know it'll never be real.
I know that all there is left to do is remember.
I know that I'll have so many more dreams,
but that will never stop you
from being the best I ever had.

Give me a reason to hate you.
Everyone's been pointing out flaws,
yet I'm banking on the maybe that you can prove them wrong.
I can't live in this back and forth cycle of
being all that you want,
and nothing at all.
I sit here listening to you sing and it fills up my empty,
but I guess I've been your nothing for a while now.
Now she's in your bed
and suddenly, I'm no longer in your head.
It seems I'm only on your mind
when there can be no one else instead.
People have stopped asking about you.
They used to be able to tell when I thought about you.
I think they still can.
Maybe, that's why they stopped asking.
They used to tell me to fly out tomorrow,
but now,
they're telling me I need to get laid.

Give me a reason to hate you.

I'm trying to find one now,
but when I look at you,
all I see is cocoa eyes.
And though diabetes runs in the family,
I think you're sugar free.
It's been **** near six months
and this bitter taste you've left hasn't faded,
even though you have.
It seems all signs that once pointed your direction
have turned away,
the last one being this ******* connection
that just won't fade.

I was in a car accident last month.

As the car spun, I saw your face.

I called to tell you that I loved you,

and you sent me to voicemail.

I'm seventeen.
I have scars lining my ribs, my thighs, my arms and my mind.
I either count my calories or blur them altogether; 500 a day or 4000 a day.
I am not an athlete.
I have no illnesses.
I've never been diagnosed.
I've simply been attempting to be the woman I've been demanded I be.
I'm failing, miserably.
Right now:
My mom is unconscious, failing to drown herself in alcohol.
My sister has locked herself in her room, isolating.
My dad is telling my neighbors their views are wrong,
And I am lying in bed, binge eating.
I'm seventeen.
This poem really does not have a beat.
This poem is a flow,
steadier than my self esteem.
Mirrors lie and pictures steal.
TV taunts and horror is real,
I'm seventeen and
I've tried to die,
I've learned to lie
To family.
I'm no stranger to the sisters death and night.
Death;
gives and takes, reaping the soil with the bodies of the ill
bodied,
minded,
hearted.
Night;
darkens the world, honing in on those I was promised I could turn to,
reminding them I am no refuge, I am ill
bodied,
minded,
hearted.
I'm seventeen and
My hands shake at the thought of losing my balance,
Ironic seeing as I won't even be standing
But the thought of disappointing you
Throws me down without hesitation.
I'm seventeen.

****.
I'm seventeen.

I drove past the first place you kissed me
And I couldn't tell if my heart
skipped a beat
because of the thought of your lips,or if it
skipped a beat
because you haven't called me in weeks.

This was never meant to hurt you.
It was a simple miscommunication,
a stumble of words.
"Words" can be so easily misspelled to say "swords,"
and swords can impale.
I suppose words can, too.

I'm forever in awe with how you change my mood completely.
I've learned not to let people do this, not to let them affect my mood.
But *******, your laugh makes my heart swell, it fills up the empty.
And when you look at me, I feel it again.
I feel the floating, my feet are hardly touching the ground.
When you play me my favorite songs as a surprise,
I can hardly see because it's hard to keep my eyes open when I'm smiling so wide.
****,
all I need is your voice saying my name and my heart's a pro boxer,
my ribs are its punching bag, giving meaning to the words heartBEAT.
And *******, do I love you.
I have since day one, and I think I will forever.

It feels as though your eyes have stopped being a door,
as though I've stopped seeing your true intentions.
I love you incessantly still,
and as of recent,
I feel as though I'm staring into a mirror.
I only see myself in you.
That scares me,
as I'm not exactly the person I'd like to be.
Yet I always say to love yourself.
So maybe,
this is when I learn how.

your fan sounds like rain on a window pane through the speaker on my phone as you’ve fallen asleep on video call for what could be the hundredth time, i’ve lost count of how many nights we’ve done this
since we were 16, we have done this, year after year
the sound does not bother me though, and i do not hang up
instead, i pretend you’re beside me as i listen to your breathing
it is steady, rhythmic
it seems that everything you do, you do beautifully, it’s so hard not to stare
you make music when you speak, a pattern in your syllables imprinting on my brain
you see, you make music for a living, but my favorite songs are the way you run your fingers through your hair instead of brushing it
the way your brows furrow when reading an email
how every time you put on a hat, it’s tilted slightly to your left
the fact that each time we kiss, you always peck my lips after and smile a toothy grin
when you laugh and your eyes crinkle up at the corners
your attention to detail, color coordination, aesthetics
how you always make sure to remind everyone you talk they should drink more water,
i love falling asleep listening to you
i listen to the music you make when you aren’t even trying

Passion behind words is something I worry I feel alone.
I’ve tried sharing my passion of vocabulary,
my passion of poetry with others,
tried showing them the entire novels only
a few lines can write,
and I worry that I seem insane.
I worry that they don’t understand me,
that I’m misinterpreted.
No, I am not saying I feel smarter than you,
I am saying I find beauty in these words,
these stories.
My father calls it beatnik.
He believes spoken word poetry exists nowhere but a paper,
that it is not meant to be spoken,
that it is a lesser version of rap--
which he also hates.
I pattern my syllables or rhyming to create what I see as art,
only to have others raise an eyebrow and wonder
what my “damage” is.
Distinguishing my deterioration is not the objective at hand.
"Words" can be so easily misspelled to say "swords,"
and swords can impale.
I suppose words can, too.

I cannot help anticipating the day I
wake
beside you.
To hear your voice in reality
and not the speaker of my phone
would be
to wake to a dream,
instead of from one.
I've dreamt of you twice since Tuesday.
Days have blurred together,
as have the years we've known each other.
Almost like the way you edit your pictures;
these are soft,
beautiful,
emotional moments,
and I only wish I capture more.

When I was young, I was told that
"bad things happen at 3 a.m."
We were made to believe
that we were "not alone."
Now,
the scariest thing about being awake
when the Witching Hour strikes,
is knowing you're not here,
and I'm alone in this bed.