I need kisses
like a fish needs colored rocks
and a bear needs honey

I need it like
eyes need sunglasses
and skin needs sunscreen

Like people need chocolate
or french fries or fried food
or fast wi-fi or vacation

The thing about needing
- I don't
- It'd be nice though

When I’m sad I crave french fries

They taste like happiness is supposed to feel
like grease dripping from your lips as you sit back and enjoy yourself
like indulging a craving that everyone says will only make you fat and unattractive
and this
feels like a goodbye

French fries don’t ask you to talk about your feelings and
French fries don’t tell you ‘no’ when you reach for them
French fries only comfort and tell you that it’ll all be okay
because spending a few bucks on McDonalds is always better than taking a razor to your skin
the threat of gaining a few extra pounds is nothing when you think that I could be running toward a precipice with no hope of stopping
No desire to pause in my motion until I am airbourne
because Moriarty said that falling is just like flying
until you stop

French fries are always warm

They cool over time but by then they are making their way through a system made only to squeeze what nutrition can be found there
They don’t keep me up at night with cravings for more
because when I eat French Fries I’m only trying to sit here and live in this moment
because French Fries don’t tell me what I don’t want to hear and
French Fries don’t pull things like me like a string around a loose tooth and
French fries don’t slam the door

When I’m angry they taste like tears

I haven’t cried more than two tears since the day my heart up and left me
I’ve tried to tell everyone that being unable to cry doesn’t mean I can’t feel anything
except when it does
and maybe that just means that I am hollow and dry on the inside as well, maybe it means the soul I thought was old as my great grandmother’s is simply an empty space
But I don’t want to believe my being is half of something else
to be filled by someone who can leave any other day
I don’t want
to be desperate
but the grit of salt on my fingers feels a lot like missing you
so I lick it off
because they say that salt purifies and I haven’t felt clean since this time last year when you
got drunk and told me that you loved me

So I’m sorry if I can’t get to you through all the french fries
I’m sorry that I can’t reach far enough to grasp at straws and I’m
sorry that eating fast food is the only way I can find release and
I’m sorry that sometimes I think that maybe it’s for the better, you know?
because all this is just ridiculous and
we were supposed to get married and
I knew it was stupid to think so at the time because everyone says that high school can’t last forever and I’m
a senior

I’m sorry that I made you happy

because happiness is the only thing more devious than the male mind and
I told you that I would gladly let you move in if your parents disowned you and
I told you that I was thinking about you through spoken word poems I never got around to writing and
I told you to bring a blanket to that roof you watch the stars on to get away from your demons and
I told you that it didn’t matter to me if you relapsed
and
still you act like I’ve never said a word

but French Fries fill me from toe to crown and I
know now
that the taste of them fills me better than bitterness ever had and
that finding release in fattening strips of potato is better than
wishing I was dead every moment and

I’m sorry that I can’t do this anymore

So everytime I go to McDonalds and order one, two, three orders of large fries
know I always order one for Chelsea,
but I eat the other two for you
because to me they taste like Burger King
and an order of French Fries

An old man sits
on the edge of the bed
just after he's tucked in his grandson
He fiddles and fits
While his old gal, she knits
And his boy sleeps, soft and handsome

But what is this?
He can't help but think
As his grandson rolls restlessly round
What sort of ploy
May claim my boy
When his pops is dead in the ground?

His wife, she shakes head
All afluttered and red
Claiming that he's been a fool
For Death, he comes
For every which ones
As sure as summers for school

But wife, he cries
With tears in his eyes
As his boys turns roughly about
"What will become
Of my dear grandson
When a grandfather he is without?"

His wife, she smiles
Is silent awhile
As her needles go clickity-clack
"This boy, you see
Is our legacy
And a family he never shall lack."

Like falling to the earth, your wings aflame
but realizing that it isn't fear you're feeling
Like trying to keep yourself in perfect balance
but tempted, sorely tempted, to let go

Like telling yourself not to fly too close to the sun
but loving the way the burn cleanses
Like telling yourself not to fly too close to the waves
but tasting freedom in salty sea air

Like the moment when you realize you will fall
but accepting the inevitable with a smile
Like the spiraling decent toward your fate
but it feels like a roller coaster

Like the squeak and complaint of gears
this contraption wasn't made for this
Like a father's cry of complete horror
but weren't we aiming for escape?

Like the fear and attempt of saving your life
but don't martyrs die for freedom?
Like the scream of pure delight ripped from your smile
A trail of feathers all that remains of your inhibition

My last long distance relationship was with YaHWeH
And we’re on break
But when I can’t help myself
I drunk text him
Thumbs fumbling like they’ve forgotten
Keys I used to know with eyes closed

“Why do you give me emotions
If they are only going to be doubted?
Invalidated continuously?
What would it be like to feel something
Without being punished?
Prayer emoji, prayer emoji,
Cry emoji, upside down smile.”

And when the emotional puking is done
And I’ve resigned myself to silence
And acid green Listerine
The universe chimes
“One new message.”

Taking a deep breath,
Pushing down apprehension
And the nauseous excitement
Of a boy texting back
Read.

“They are not always thus.
Each time someone was there
In your corner,
Maybe not the most voices
Maybe not the loudest
But there.

You are the master of your destiny, Love
The master of your punishment
You do not have to feel punished
You are rejoice made flesh.”
Peaceful smile, peaceful smile
Kiss emoji.”

I pause, reading it once,
Then twice,
Swallowing then nodding
Keys now vaguely familiar.

“Sometimes I forget.
Shy emoji, shrug emoji,
Monkey covering eyes.”

“God is typing……”

“That is what I’m here for.”
Kiss emoji, smile emoji
Blushing beaming smile.”

My palms sweat when I think of writing you a poem

Writing has been the only way
I could communicate with others
you see,
when it comes to my emotions
my mouth might as well be duct-taped
and in fact the only way I can write this now
is because I can tell myself you'll never see it

I'm confused.

Circumstances half under my control
has resulted in making me
the co-creator of my own kryptonite
see, what happened was partially my fault
and I can't escape the guilt that I made trying to escape it in the first place
see sometimes trying your hardest not to lead someone on
leads them on anyway
and I don't want to do that to you
I don't want to do that to anyone

See this poem doesn't even rhyme.

Not a lot of mine do, though,
And see listening to Drake tends to make me honest
and listening to Nicki Minaj makes me brave
and the combination of that with Angel Haze
is a cocktail that might just get me drunk enough
to lay my head on your shoulder again

I think I'm falling in love with you

But you should know my personality
means that I'm doing it kicking and screaming
searching my damnedest for an escape route
because being vulnerable hurts me every time
even the ones that promised they wouldn't
and I do it to myself, but
I trust you
And honestly that scares me more than it should

I'm not afraid of ******* it up
if that were all it was you'd find me on your doorstep
with my heart in my palms and blood dripping on the concrete
but the thought of how happy you would make me
of how temporary everything is despite our best efforts
the chance that I could lose everything in a single swoop
is more terrifying than wandering alone through dark paths
more terrifying than a deep voice from the empty space beside my ear
more terrifying than a letting down my guard little by little
just to get stabbed in the back

We've already established
That the sun's a bit self-centered
And it's as if the rest
Revolve around
but I think that may just be science

We've already established
That the moon shows only one side
to the Earth and the side
that's cloaked in shadow
is something to be
wary of? scared of? disappointed with?

We've already established
That Venus is the planet of love
That Jupiter gets no love songs
That Mars and Mercury frankly couldn't give a ****
and Uranus simply doesn't.

And I'd hate to pile more on Earth
More noise to pollute the atmosphere
More thoughts that don't mean jackshit
More civilizations that believe the universe
Revolves around Earth.

Storms and Quakes and Humans
Are unimportant after all
You can't complain about not finding
A specific sort of poem
if all the other planetary poems
Seem to be about you anyway

In my mind, he is the color green.

Have you ever looked around and seen
Just how much of life is green?
And I'm not talking nature,
Any introvert can close the blinds,
And forget leaves in winter
And grass under snow.
But he's the green of a start button
Of the t-shirt you forgot to throw into last week's wash
Of the tiles in the bathroom
And the leggings on a stranger.
He's the green that means "go"
And it makes me... stop.
Reverse.
Climb inside where the air is clear
and smells of rain
and everything is Blue.

But my girl, she was Red.
The sort that bleeds
Into ink black or blue

The
     bottom
            line
                is
                 finish
                      it
        But
            work
                  blurs
                        my
                            vision
              And
                    inspiration
                                    is
                                      hard
                                             to
                                               come
                                                       by
                     And
                          honestly
                                      who
                                           will
                                               need
                                                      to
                          Factor
                                   functions
                                                with
                                                     exponents
                                   Anytime
                                               in
                                                 thier
                                                       lives
                                               After
                                                    This?

At one point he realized that if he hugged me hard enough our hugs don’t last as long

It reminds me of the way some people take pills
if you take enough all at one time
perhaps the dosage will be strong enough
to run through your blood like runners in a race
to blissfully declare that it’s all for nothing and nothing for all
that the feeling of my shoulderblades cracking under pressure
is better than overdosing on pills

It reminds me of the way some people gorge on food
because if you eat it all as fast as you can
it takes a few minutes before your stomach feels that its too much
and if you wait to puke it all up in the bathroom of your school after lunch
maybe the feel of ***** and the burn in your throat
is worth the taste of all that food
that you ate too fast to enjoy it

It reminds me of the way some people use their orajel
because if you sit there are you numb one spot
all the other aches are suddenly so appearant
because all of you hurts, doesn’t it?
Not just one tooth, but all the others
and if you numb the one distracting you
suddenly your whole mouth is in disarray
and you hurt everywhere

It reminds me of life support
because a machine pumping what you were born with into your body
reminds me of the way I cling like a child to their mother’s skirts
to you as if you were my only living teddybear
because I know that if you were to walk away one day
I could go on living
and that fact alone makes it that much likely
that you’ll stay even longer

because I don’t think I need you
but I want you around anyway

Dear two year old me,
You've been walking for a year now,
And oh! The places you'll go!
The people you'll see, and love, and hurt.
This is your superhero's backstory, you'll see.

Dear four year old me,
I'm so proud of you,
Losing yourself in books already,
Keep your smile ready, darling,
It's going to be rough for a while.

Dear six year old me,
Those kids who threw pine cones
Called you ugly at the bus stop
And made you run home in tears,
Baby Girl, they don't matter.

Dear eight year old me,
That teacher who sneered "just like your mom"
like a barbed insult and a doomed future
was just a mean confused white lady,
Who never even tried to get to know you or your wonderful mother.

Dear ten year old me,
Playground marriages were just for show
Everyone else got remarried day by day
You only had eyes for one, but that's okay
Your loyalty will bring you happiness, one day.

Dear twelve year old me,
You really are too young to date,
and I know everyone else is doing it,
but none of them last, baby girl,
waiting is totally okay.

Dear fourteen year old me,
You've been in love for so long,
It's really just like breathing, isn't it?
But you're too young to know what toxic is
Don't worry, ***, you'll be so much better.

Dear sixteen year old me,
It hurts. I know it hurts. It hurts so much.
You'll teach yourself to keep busy day by day
But honey your lungs only burn because you've been
Breathing smoke for so long fresh oxygen tastes poisonous.

Dear eighteen year old me,
You'd think me soft, now. Emotional. Weak.
But crying is okay, sweet one, wanting hugs is okay
Feeling used is okay. Wanting love is okay.
It's going to be okay.

it tastes like bile in the back of your throat
feels like tears stinging behind your eyes
like a migraine just beginning
like a high pitched whine at the highest volume

it seeps into things unrelated
tinting your favorite colors
flavoring your favorite foods
putting white noise in all your favorite songs

it leaks onto your friendships
staining arms after hugs
leaving laughs polluted
reflecting in eyes that’d trust you with anything

it screams at it wins
the sound one of terrifying joy
“burn!” it commands
but you are made of stone and mortar

it fills your chest with unease
your fingertips with trembles
your mind with final conclusions
your lips with lies that taste like sugar

“I don’t” but you don’t mean that
“I don’t want” but you do
“I can’t” but you can
“I won’t” but you will.

Have you ever loved someone so much
You could no longer look at them?
Afraid that if you did,
They'd catch the emotion in your eyes?

This isn't a poem like that, not really
There was no brush of fingertips and long sideways glances
He is not the sun, and I am not the earth
But we could be meant to be

He is not an angel, He does not fly on wings made of music and
He does not leave ****** footprints across golden landscapes
He is not the best thing to happen since sliced bread,
Hell, he's not even the best thing to happen to me

And yet,
Here I am writing yet another poem
About the way I don't let myself look at his eyes
And who needs more words about how arms feel like home
When it could just be that you haven't been held in a while

Who needs metaphors about butterflies
When in reality it's just an excuse for hesitation
A fallacy-filled reasoning to not take a chance
And some sick culmination of a lack of self worth

I can give you reasons that I love him,
I can give you clues that he loves me,
I can give you explanations, similes,
Excuses for why I've done nothing,

But why even bother with that?
What is the point of waxing poetic about a boy
Who I will never make a move on
And who will never make a move?

Spoiler Alert,
There isn't one.

I was bullied from kindergarten to freshman year.

I loved to imagine a tall boy
three inches taller exactly,
just tall enough that
each kiss would have to happen
on my tip toes
and riding on his back
would feel just like
flying.

His hair would be dark brown
and his eyes would be
unremarkable
a brown so dark that others
would think it black
no one else would get close enough
to tell the difference
and no one else would love them
as I did
just as I hoped my eyes would look
to someone else
some day.

He wouldn’t speak much
to other people
his words would mean much
but only to those
who could understand what he meant
and I would be the first
to major in his language
but I would never teach it
to any but our children.

He would look at me
like I personally rose the sun
and hung the stars at night
I would be so high in his regard
that my word would be law
and he would never doubt
anything I said
and even when I lied
obvious and wide eyed
sarcasm dripping from my lips
he would believe me

He would visit me in school
to sit with me at lunch
walking slowly
past the girls who told me
‘no one will ever love you’
and ‘who would ever want to kiss
a face like yours?’
He would prove them wrong right there
at the table they shunned me to
kissing me in full view of everyone.

He would dress in leather
and his hair would be greased
combed back just like a bad boy
he would have a motorcycle
and a car he never drove
and his jeans would be
perfectly between baggy and skinny

He would call me
His Girl
and if anyone messed with me
he would narrow his eyes in such a way
that made them fear for their lives
My bullies would never bother me again.

He would describe my skin
with words like silky, soft and succulent
ebony, stately, and irresistible
but never would he compare its color
to any sort of food
except perhaps sugar
when speaking of the taste.

I built him in the lonely hours
when eyes followed me
and whispers rose behind my back
I made sure that for every insult
tossed my way like live grenades
he threw back with easy confidence
as though my life were a game of COD.

My hair was never too wild
too big or too ‘ethnic’
My lips were just the right size
to **** the breath straight from my lungs
He didn’t care if I shaved my legs
and he liked my sense of style.
He didn’t mind if I was wearing
basketball shorts and too big tshirts,
and he told me that tight clothing
left nothing to the imagination anyway
and besides he didn’t want the other boys
to see what they’d missed.
He didn’t care that I was as boyish
as I was shy
and he knew that the wall I built around myself
wasn’t all there was to me
and he always knew just what I needed,
and sometimes when I was lonely
he showed up just to give me a hug.

And when I got to high school
He shaped how I saw things
He always told me I was beautiful
and if no one else could see that, it was their loss.
He told me that there was never anything wrong with me
and if no one else could see that
then **** Them and All They Stand For.

He faded back into my subconsciousness,
speaking to me though I never truly
thought of him the way he’d been
He stopped bursting into classrooms
to show others what they were missing
and he started whispering an idea
that I didn’t need him anymore.

I would pass a reflection of myself
and He would lift my chin
‘Look how beautiful you are.’
He knew when I was sad,
and promised it was only temporary.
He smiled and gave me thumbs up
when I doubted and shook with nerves.
And with him I could cope.
And soon without him I could too.

Now when I passed mirrors
I lifted my chin myself.
‘Look how beautiful I am’.
and when I was sad
I told myself it was only temporary.
I gave myself smiles,
and I laughed at myself,
and I learned to love me as I’d always imagined
he did.
Unconditionally.

Have you ever looked for love
in the space between someone's arms?

What is that volume
when compared to the immensity
of the known universe?

I'm sorry, it doesn't make sense.
Searching for something as vast as love
in the microscopic space
of a human's arms
whilst stars explode and collapse
as my love did

I think I fell in love again, the other day

Because I can't stop thinking
about the way his fingers felt
as they brushed my skin
in that mindless, simple way of his
and I feel guilty for liking it

I think I fell in love again, the other day

Because the thought of his smile
makes me feel like I am made of sparklers
shining inside
where before there had been darkness
that I embraced

I think I fell in love again, the other day

Because my stomach feels like
its tying itself in knots
when I think about how temporary it was
how it felt like a moment of peace
carved out of a carcass of wartime

I think I fell in love again, the other day

And I'm terrified
because somewhere between you and him
between the doubts and the accusations
between holding hands and daydreaming
between not yelling and screaming on the inside
between memorizing your features and watching you leave
I found myself thinking that my love isn't good enough
and I struggle to drag my self worth up the mountain I threw it down for you

How dare I
put my own
happiness
without first
waiting

sometimes i open my mouth

you never seem to notice the little jolts
when i decide to say something
stupid
like it doesn’t matter who hears
because no one is listening anyway
and those who do can not interpret
can find no inner meaning
and when the words retract
like measuring tape
it’s not great loss
for humanity

sometimes i open my mouth

and words flow like nectar
honey of arsenic, syrup of mercury
sweet sounding and harsh to taste
poison fermented, sugar-coated,
smooth and sticky and full of sharp edges
broken glass and razor blades
hurt you hurt me hurt everyone
close enough

sometimes i open my mouth

and song bursts forth like butterflies
like birds of prey circling overhead
like shining sunlight and cloaked shadow
like clear crisp air and clearer night skies
like the full moon full of craters
thousands of miles away
sometimes too high and others too low
sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow
and sometimes the song trembles
my voice too powerful
for its composition

sometimes i open my mouth

and silence seeps, black ichor
staining lips and fingers
slipping down throats and dribbling through teeth
and soaking into skin like stains on clothing
creeping and filling the space between
my body and my mind
my friends and my heart
burning and tearing at the *****
until i am drowning on oxygen

sometimes i open my mouth

and scream
my mouth stretched wide as it can go
teeth bared, lips curled,
letting lose a high, free sound
free as a bird and flying until i can feel it
taste the release on my tongue
a sound not of fear but of triumph
ignore me now, pretend you can’t see
howling at the world as a wolf does the moon
i am here, i am here, i am

opening my mouth

My lips weren’t made for kissing.
I fear they’ve forgotten how, most times
It’s been years
since I practiced
speaking the language
of bodies
of heated palms and parted lips
of skin on skin

Would you be willing to relearn with me?
Spend long nights with
our heads bowed over foreign text books
I promise to add
my knowledge to yours
if you promise to stroke
my spine
to whisper and gasp this language
as it comes back to me

I’ve never pulled an all-nighter
to study a subject
but I swear
that to learn this language
I’ll meet with you
every night
like there’s an exam the next day

I’ll spend hours on each sound
whole days on single words
mouthing my way
until I’ve memorized
that week’s vocabulary
then go just a bit longer,
never hurts to be sure,
just in case I’ve missed something

I’ll use my tongue as a highlighter
brightening spots
I never want to forget
with color that rises
from beneath your skin
and revisit them often
to make sure
they stick in my memory

And when we need to run through the lists
we can press our lips
together
(to make sure we’re
pronouncing it right)
We may even
have to keep it up
for hours
to get the whole list right
until we’re perfectly in sync.

Everyone knows it takes years
to learn a new language
but I’d sacrifice decades
to be fluent
in you.

It feels like holding your breath
until your lungs ache and your ribs creak
because your heart is beating so fast
complaining for lack of oxygen
but you won't
you won't breathe
who cares if it hurts?
who cares if your throat burns
and your eyes water?
for even water is part oxygen
and perhaps the pain would stop
if you inhale
and find two parts hydrogen as well.

Sunday afternoon was spent in my best friends bed.

It isn't like that, I swear,
it's just that when I'm with him,
I don't have to be anybody else.

It's just that when I'm with him,
I don't have to worry
about scaring him away.

It's just that when I'm with him,
I don't have to use the extra brainpower
that is the filter between me and other people.

It's just that when I laid there
it was a lot like coming home
and a lot like I never left.

It's just that when I'm with him
I don't have to worry about being homeless,
because it feels like something
permanent.

Today you mistook a shiver for weakness.

Sometimes the Earth gets tired.
Humans populate almost every inch hospitable
Leveling ground too ‘wild’ for its purpose
Shrieking for order and smoothing hills
Building higher, spanning wider
Spreading the plague of population
Preaching ‘Save Mother Earth!’
But taking natural born beauty
Replacing it with stenciled curves
And rises demolished and remade in cement

Sometimes the Earth feels unloved.
The love of nature, but not of all that comes with
The view, not the insects
The forest, not the wildlife
Then not the forests at all
Cut them down for firewood
For houses made of stone and brick
Carve out pits to place your waste
Dig up earth made sound by centuries
Replace with loose stones
And complain of instability
Of bedrock you can not break
Of Opals too easily broken
And then it’s a wonder
That all gemstones
Are kept within the darkest caverns
Deep into the mines of the earth

Sometimes the Earth feels used.
Once white beaches covered
In foot traffic and families
And it’s not as though the Earth minds that
But the trash left to drift into the oceans
The oil spills and landfills
The litter left so carelessly
The use without thought
For beaches are for everyone, it’s only fair
Why thank the Earth at all?

Sometimes the Earth forgets
When used to meet someone’s needs
As though an endless resource
Sometimes you run out of fossil fuels
I’d give my bones for this
But skeletons weren’t made to last forever
And through it all calm skies and shining suns
As though nothing were wrong

Sometimes the Earth needs to remember
That gravity is a force that needs two factors
That not all satellites are geosynchronous
That it takes 365 days to get back to where you started
And even then you’re still a bit off
And that’s okay, that’s okay

That’s okay.

I am in control.
Tornado relocates entire home.
I am in control.
Hurricane leaves hundreds stranded.
I am in control.
Avalanche destroys mountain resort.
I am in control.
Lightning leaves entire county without power.
I am in control.
Tsunami wipes coastline clear off the map.
I am in control.
Typhoon tears roofs off of residences.
I am in control.
Earthquake levels entire city.

Today you mistook a shiver for weakness,
But Earthquakes only remind that the Earth is something to be feared.
That cities fall as easily as rain and sleet and snow
That change is the only constant
Do not make the mistake again.

God gave leopards spots
Zebras and tigers stripes
Hyenas fur and fangs
Lions a bright and gilded mane

But humans have but their skin
Pale or copper, thick or thin
Veins and white blood cells
Bare feet, bare of claws

How then, are we expected
To show the dangers we possess
If not gifted with fangs or fur?
If only given soft skin?

My ancestors in the Americas
Painted their skin with bright colors
Palms red with berries and
Faces covered with the designs of their gods

I am but a teenage girl
A goddess in no sense, a weakness
My force upon the world no greater
Than the force of a worm in dirt

I have no thousand year old dyes
No golden mane of hair but
Bright berserker eyes
and a force of will like gravity

I have glittering lipstick
My own brand of warpaint
Against all things that make me
Feel small, ugly, and worthless

Do you see this? My warpaint screams
I am not your victim
I am not your weak, disgusted little girl
I am a warrior

You can not have this
This body is mine
This body is strong
This body is me

And instead of fading
My warpaint seeps into my skin
Becoming what I am
A warrior, at war

1.  “Redbone” by Childish Gambino
       *From the album “Awaken My Love!” circa 2016
There is something here of the generations
My mother used to hold me to her chest
And play songs that sounded a lot like this one
A string of notes and a backbeat that could lead a war
That old time sound of a desperately truthful falsetto
Of loves and lusts lost and almost lost

        2. “Ribcage” by Mary Lambert ft Angel Haze
        From the album “Heart on my Sleeve” circa 2014
I’ve always had a penchant for clever lyrics and simile
Self titled Queen of Metaphor circa 2008
This one is a heartbeat, trapped in a cage of craving bone
With vulnerable voices raised in honest harmony
Then comes the rap Angel, spitting psalms of poetic pleas
Desperate to be understood when words work no longer

3. “HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T” by Fall Out Boy
From the album “Mania” circa 2017
A love song about holding memories like mists in tight fists
A distance insurmountable between two linked chains
It’s the point where numbness reaches its peak,
But you remember the all consuming wave of emotion
The way a child who has lived their whole life in the desert
Remembers being born at sea

4. “The Good Part” by AJR
From the album “The Click” circa 2017
This is where you are when you’ve reach three fourths completion,
A 2pm existential crisis, an out of body stress headache
A melancholy look back at all you’ve achieved,
A Pride in the journey, when you’ve still got miles before the finish line
Weeks of hard work, all in an unending line,
A tired request to flip to the Happily Ever After

5. “Maybe IDK” by Jon Bellion
From The Album “The Human Condition” circa 2016
This is the finale of an existential nightmare,
The part of dissociation where the world comes back into focus,
When you talk your brain into circles to get back to sense,
This is the sigh of relief when your questions stop spiraling
Like living through a hurricane, hands clasped, eyes closed
Coming outside, and seeing the sun

6. “Once in a Lifetime” by Talking Heads
From the Album “Remain in Light” circa 2005
Finally, the return of your mind, the tingling of overthinking
Come to rest. This is the feeling of everything being “alright”
When you haven’t been alright since two years old. This is
The temporary “back to normal”, the frequently pressed reset,
Button that makes you function again, when you know
Deep down, you’re an iphone four years out of date

This is who I am.

Thunder in the distance, coming or leaving? Staying or going? Coming or

Leaves falling from healthy trees like lush green flower petals, summer or autumn? Spring or winter? Summer or

Falling raindrops, water from seas you've never seen. Seas you've only touched. Creek or Sea? Lake or river? Creek or

Seeing children, small and smiling. Simple laughter, tantrum-less playdates and fairy tale stories. Park or playground? Street or yard? Park or

Playthings, dusty, slightly used. A yardsale full of stories. That was my favorite, once. Doll or teddy? Ball or necklace? Blanket or

Sheets blowing on gentle breezes. Wet, warm, drying. Not quite abandoned, but left to its devices. Lonely or purposed? Chore or necessity? Lonely or

Purposeful smiles for those you dislike. Cutting insults for those you enjoy. Love for sunshine. Love for Trash. Hatred for misses. Hatred for Jests. Cruel or fair? Friend or foe? Cruel or

Faires that leave no trace when they're gone. Festivals that stay only long enough for a single good memory. Happy memories with no roots. Steadfast or fantasy? Risky or Safe? Steadfast or

Fantasies about handholding, about side eyes and smiles, about inside jokes. Dreams about darkness, about imitators, about mistakes. Dream or Reality? Dream or Daydream? Dream or

Realities like calm water, allowing only ripples. Are you real? Is anyone? Are we dust and shadows? Real or fake? Real or fake? Real or

Thunder in the distance. Coming or leaving? Staying or running?

This is who I am.

I don’t like you.

You’d think that wouldn’t be such a big deal, but honestly?
I’m not that type of person. I won’t pretend that I’ve never
Disliked someone before. I dislike plenty of things, and people
Tend to be on the list, when they’re tiresome. And you, man
You are tiresome to the next degree.
Like a project worked on all semester only to be told that it’s been cancelled
Tiresome like a conservative christian in a debate about homosexuality
Tiresome like a gun toting person demanding their right to hold weapons
While also taking away the right to speak out against them
Tiresome like all lives matter. Tiresome like our president.
Tiresome like another person killed because they look like me.
Tiresome like writing a poem about you instead of about any of that.

I don’t like you.

The funny thing is, you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.
And I mean, that’s not your fault. When it comes to communication, hey
I haven’t been forthcoming. I’m not forthcoming when it comes to that, and you know?
I’ve been working on it, sort of. It’s comes in starts and stops
But **** when you’re recovering and meet a person like you,
Honey boo, listen, it’s a lot to deal with
I have my own **** going on, I have my own problems
And you know? I’m only asking for some authenticity

I don’t like you.

You don’t have to put your whole life out there, but if you say you’re jaded
And you say that you want to keep it to yourself, and I respect that
But then you go and blurt it all out anyway?
Jaded? Honey that’s not jaded. Jaded is holding yourself back from everyone you know
Jaded is not telling your mother, not telling your best friend,
not telling people who’ve known and understood you for years,
Jaded is trying to tell people and not being able to, your words
Caught.
Frozen in a throat that wants nothing but to be understood.
Jaded is opening up a little bit to only to find firm and instant regret
Jaded is arguing with yourself over every. single. word.
Honey, you’re not jaded
If anything you’re glassed.

I don’t like you.

I don’t mean to discount your trauma, your hurt, no, not at all
Your pain and emotions are valid, just like mine, and hers, and ours,
But god, god you don’t make it easy do you?
Trauma is not a one way ticket into the cool kids club, alright?
We didn’t want to be this way, we don’t flaunt it
I don’t want your meager tumblr-style fourteen year old
edgy emotions with your Three Days Grace hat and your Slipknot hoodie
And your “no one understands me”

I don’t like you

And come on, man! I even like those bands! I still listen to them!
Three Days Grace and Slipknot and everything from that phase is still strong
It still has weight, words have power, but you, you you you
You have the power to take even the most amazing thing, the most powerful
The most pleasing and peaceful and transform them into something
Troublesome. And tiring. And overdone. That’s you
And I’m sorry, I am, I’m sorry that I’m reacting like this
I swear that since highschool I’ve been better at snap judgements
But I took a chance on you and you shat on it, man
You ******* took my chance and tossed it in the garbage compactor
With your low budget, discount, B Movie Teenage Angst
That still has the audacity to be hurt by the Oscars “not noticing you”

I don’t like you.

And this isn’t an attention thing, okay?
I am a huge advocate for seeing people doing things for attention, and giving them that
Because that’s a cry for help, that makes sense
Looking for understanding, that makes sense
But god, to do it and then shun those who try to relate
To do it and then look down your nose
To do it and then turn your back
To do it and then flick your hair and say “you guys wouldn’t understand.”

I don’t like you.

And the thing is, when I have problems?
When I don’t like things, when I get uncomfortable
I fix them, I make progress, I take steps
But with you? Sweetie no,
I don’t want to try with you,
I don’t want to fix this with you
I don’t want to deal with you

I don’t like you.

It is like leaving a glass
of ice cold sweet tea
out on a picnic table
in the middle of the summer

Sweat beads
drift down heated skin
But your insides are liquid
Cold and chilled with ice

The sun shines
Beautiful and unforgiving
Aware only of its need
To provide warmth

But the flowers detest
They love the burn
They love the sun
But their strength is of the earth
Their origin
Their roots

Ice melts
Tea dilutes
and in the end
You don't taste like you should

On Sunday he pressed his lips against my throat
in a joking sort of kiss
all waggled brows and hidden giggles
and I said "oh my god what are you doing"
and we dissolved into snickering

And on Wednesday me and he sat
and watched TV and played horror games
all terror and smiles and fond glances
and I said "it's your turn don't roll your eyes at me"
and I forgot my responsibilities when he did it anyway

On Sunday we shared a glance over breakfast snacks
and danced on stage and talked around him
all raised brows and aching cheeks
and I said "we'd have cute kids your hair, my everything else"
and I don't remember what his face was, from the ground

And on Wednesday, he laid on my couch
and I sat in my armchair
all relaxation and easy conversation
and he said "wait, are you really going to marry him?"
and I don't remember answering

And on Sunday we raised our eyes to heaven
and sang songs to the God my mother loves
all easy grace and accidental harmonies
and I thought "why would I marry him I love you"
and I sat alone

what am I now, what am I now
alone and sad and lonely
what am I now, what am I
alone and sad and

look at what you’ve done to me
look at these scars no one can see
what am I now, what am I now
look at these scars no one can

I wish I could tell you how I’ve changed
I wished someone would see
I wish I was something else
I wish I could show you how I’ve

I don’t know who I am right now
I don’t know who I was
Before you did this to me
I don’t know who I was

what am I now, what am I now
alone and sad and lonely
I wish someone could see my scars
what am I now, what am I

I'm not good at falling in love
but I seem to be good at being in it

I kick and I flail when emotions start
to trickle and accumulate
to pile upon one another like clues
toward a conclusion unsatisfactory
because I know where this is heading

I've been head over heels
and *** over elbows
and flat as a board on my back
but each time as I felt it growing
I denied, and I lied, and I wept

See, I understand what it's like
to start a war over the wink of a lady
I know how it feels to share a crush
with those whose happiness
you prioritize above your own

I know how to feel worthless
and I know how to doubt
and I know how to keep my mouth shut
but I know how to love without regrets
and I like to believe that's enough

See, sometimes I feel the need
to browse through old tags on tumblr
and sometimes I stare at my phone
and debate sending a text
and lots of times I remember
that I saved every message I sent you

But that isn't fair.

Because you know love is ever evolving
and there's so many different types
and perhaps never the same love twice
at least I hope not, anyway.
Cause I always seem to throw myself
into chasms overflowing
with deep dark water
and I'm not the best swimmer.

And I love to believe that people
are life preservers
stuck on shore.

i.
You’re alone, and you don’t really mind.
It’s quiet here, and peaceful
No one asks too much of you
You stay who you are and you do what you do
And no one’s much the wiser.
You like it this way.

ii.
You've locked yourself in your dorm because you don’t want to deal with people.
“School is easy, people are hard.”
That is the mantra you mentally whisper as you disappear
into novels with characters with much bigger problems
than a lack of friends you don’t remember wanting.
You’re not sure if you like it this way.

iii.
There are people you barely know smiling at you.
It’s sort of like you've known them long,
but you’re sure it’s only been two days.
You know all their names, which is weird,
but they know your name too.
They sort of understand.
You sort of like it this way.

iv.
You’re surrounded on all sides, but it’s nice.
It feels like the music in the air
is racing through your bloodstream.
Is this what it feels to be apart of something?
Greater?
You might like it this way.

v.
It’s too late to be night but too early to be morning.
You talked as though you don’t have
your past locked in your back pocket.
You laugh like this is nothing new,
like you sleepover with “practically strangers” all the time.
But they don’t feel like strangers, not really.
You think you like it this way.

vi.
You’re not sure what’s really happening anymore.
There’s no urge to be alone,
but no urge to constantly be with them,
as though these relationship are symbiotic,
rather than the lecherous addictions
friendships became in high school.
You’re not sure if you trust it this way,
but you like it.

Mud
The sort that slips between your toes
and fingers
that cakes your clothing
and leaves all things
unclean

Worms
that you dodge after a rainstorm
walking the whole way
on your toes
as to not crush them
but the sickening slick sound
of inevitably misstepping
and killing one anyway

Rain
that covers you from head to toe
that steals the heat of your body
and gives it to the unforgiving air
that rebirthing metaphor
that doesn’t seem to be working

Thunder
but in the distance
none of the power that threatens
none of the shaking terror
just a memory of something
lost