2017.
in love with a boy who will soon break my heart. fills the void with a boy with the same name, soon learns they’re only ever meant to be friends. has fun with a boy you never dreamed you could have. then give up that fun for a chance at a relationship, later to find out that you’re only being used. moves away to start over with new friends and new school and hopefully a better life but cannot stop looking back on the past. the year is 2017.

And when he does not love me anymore,
I will build him
one last altar,
and decide to burn it to the ground.

But will only get as far
as lighting the match.

Thinking about how he used matches
for something.
Sometime.
Probably.

I'll brush my teeth,
thinking of the gaps between his.
How really,
it's a great metaphor for the distance between out hearts
or something stupid like that.

But in the end,
it's not a metaphor,
or an analogy.
They're just teeth.
(That could never quite come together
kind of like us)

I will crawl into bed
imagining an alternate universe
in which we have started a life together.
One where I wake up and reach across the bed for him.
Get the kids ready for school,
which is funny
because in this universe I never wanted children,
but in that universe,
we created something out of nothing.
Something with his eyes,
and my nose.
A manifestation of the love between two people.
Proof that it happened.
That is was real.
And it was resilient enough to breathe life into a world
that only offered it death.

In that universe,
our hair turns as silver
as our wedding rings.
And each wrinkle,
is a space where our skin just wanted
to hold the other person even closer.


But here
in this harsh reality,
time only pulls us apart.
And we will likely grow gray
with other people now.

In this universe,
I learn to say goodbye
to him.


I will build him
a library of poems.

And decide to burn it to the ground.

My loathy love what lour has riddled thee of sense and sanctimony?
It was this dreary azure was it not, or was it that you’ve grown cognizant, finally, o finally of the vastness of this existence
But so fall not lovely for to tether you back is but a task as I to lift suns
Take me with you if you dare, I plead you dare...your company is to the rotundity of the pith of my being..,
For how long can this sanctity hold?
Held high thy highness not man nor a maid but a distant spirit...but a distant spirit

this is not my life. we are fighting, as though
we are happy, but.my dad is
dying. i love him. as though i am a child.
as though i were a sapling at his root.
as though i were a construct of his being
as i am
i am
happy. as though i am a child. i am giving
as i will not take what i cannot give him
in his grave. he is wilting, as i realize i am
alive, and i will give him every inch of every
root that i am, constructed on the skeleton
he has given me. with life. within himself
as he is
he is
happy. as though he were a child forever.
as though he were a mighty spread tree.
as though we could love each other
beyond the end.