i think i might have finally gotten it right.
my breathing is steady,
my smile is wide,
and my worries dissipate
more and more
day by day.

i've seen your smile in my fathers face as i twirled around in a sea of pink chiffon.
i've looked into that sparkle in your eyes everytime my mother sang me to sleep.
i've heard our witty banter,
when my grandparents bicker on the way to church.
you've told me you're proud of me,
as my family smiles after my first performance.
you've helped me through so much,
everytime i sought help from my best friend.
we may have just met,
but i've known you for years

a short, exasperated little thing slams her locker and scurries around the corner
practically slamming into a telephone pole of a guy.
he smiles, says her name, and asks if she was trying to run him over
and it takes her a few seconds for the wheels of her brain to slow down enough to respond;
an awkward laugh and an eye roll
and a sarcastic “yeah” that is shouted as he’s still walking the other direction.
the wheels start up again and her little legs move even faster to make up for lost time.

if i had to say
who i’ve filled the most pages for
it wouldn’t be the boy
with the hazel eyes
who will probably never realize how i feel;
or the boy with money
who barely remembers my name;
or even the boy who’s with my best friend.
no, if i really counted,
i’ve written the most about a blue-eyed boy with a lisp and a broken heart, who i’ve only ever truly met once.

i haven’t been this honest
since the first month i knew you-
that sacred april
when the cherry blossoms bloomed for Easter
and then left as soon as they arrived,
and the wasps buzzed around my porch,
not daring to sting me.
the sun came out from its hiding place,  
and i wore white shoes.
oh, how i loved that spring.

I was finally starting to rid myself of you
and your persuasion,
your crooked smile
and nice guy demeanor
that left me to your will,
but then you came along and asked a simple question
one that showed you might just be thinking about me.
so here I am writing poetry about you instead of deleting your number.

you use me;
string me along
like you have for years.
you whisper in my ear
just as i'm forgetting you,
tap my shoulder
as i'm walking away,
and i always whisper back,
turn around,
look at that smile,
and i'm doomed.

maybe one day
our winding paths will cross
in one open patch of green grass,
and we’ll stay there,
away from the chaos;
and the people who tell us
what to do
and who to be,
they’ll all be lost in the woods.

you can tell a lot about a guy by what kind of music he turns on when you’re in the car.

there was the guy whose bass blew out my eardrums
who texted the entire way there.

there was the sweet guy who cued up his rap playlist but turned it down a couple notches so he could hear what i had to say.

but my favorite to ride with was the guy who turned the random radio station down and talked to me for thirty minutes about life and the future.
i still don’t know what song was playing.

i have one friend
who i can sit and talk to for hours
about politics and
feminism
and Christianity.

i have another
who makes us all question everything.
he always asks “why?”
he has an ability to form an opinion so different from what is “normal.”

i also have a friend
who sings so loudly
even though he doesn’t sound the best...
he is a leader among us,
and he shoots free throws with me in the gym after church.

i have one more friend
who i’ve known for a very long time
and who is so goofy.
he’s always doing something funny
and he’s one of the most loyal people i’ve ever met.

one i know i’ll be friends with forever,
another i’ll probably consult every so often if i have an important deep question.
another who is looking at the basketball team of the school who’s journalism program i love,
and my family will always be connected to the other one’s.
it worries me to think about the future;
i’m living so strongly in the now.

four years ago you stood on that stage with a microphone
and the words flowed from your mouth in such a way
that made giggles flow from mine.
she and i held hands,
and vowed to each other
an unspoken allegiance to you
and that voice.

tonight you stood on the same stage
with a microphone;
the words were different,
but they flowed the same.
this time, she stood behind you, smiling
and i sat in the audience
like i had four years ago,
not giggling anymore
but still allegiant.

i’m in this really weird place in my life
like i have so much love to give
and no one to give it to.
part of me thinks,
maybe the boy God gave you to help with life and love and to heal your soul,
or maybe the boy He sent to be a match of wits,
or the one who smiles at you in the hallway and makes your eyes light up every morning
or the countless other boys God sent you to prove that he is in control;
but then i realize
one will always need me,
as someone to council and advise him.
another will pretend i’m just another acquaintance, which i guess is true.
and the other, well i’m not sure
we’ll find out once he and his girlfriend break up.

i feel so helpless
like i’m drowning in a lake
trying to call out for help
but making no sound.
i’m waiting for you to save me
instead of learning how to swim.

i was making a bracelet today,
one of the woven types
that the “cool girls” in elementary school would come back from the beach with strands of their hair wrapped in.
you said you would wear one on your wrist
and asked me to show you how to make one.
when i finished,
dissatisfied with the crookedness of the swirling threads,
and asked if you would want it,
you smiled that smile
and let me tie it around your wrist.
don’t say i never gave you anything.

i'm a flower;
you fall for the petals,
and the captivating scent.
you uproot me,
crush the stem,
forget to water me,
and wonder why i wilt.

something about you
always reminds me
of who i could have become.
when a child whispers her wishes into the stars
they become you.

my attachment to you scares me-
it always has.
i thought maybe we could be soulmates,
that that was why i bawled like a baby when you left,
or why i still look for your car in the parking lot
even though i know it will never be there.
but today,
i realized my idealism  got the better of me again-
i simultaneously over and underestimated your purpose in my life.
you are not here to tell me i’m pretty
or to hold my hand.
you are here to be you.  
you.
the person who spoke sense into me when i refused to listen,
knowing i already knew the answer to the questions i mulled over obsessively,
who was not there to teach me something
but to help me realize i am smart enough
capable enough
logical enough
to figure things out on my own.
not a soulmate-
romantic, platonic, or other.
we are not kindred spirits
we are good friends
and, yes, i am sorry to admit that i have indeed placed you on a pedestal
but it’s a different kind of pedestal:
one that i use to remind myself
of my own ability
to hold up a mirror-
to my own face,
and to the face of others,
to show them that they too are
smart enough
capable enough
logical enough
to figure things out on their own.

thank you for teaching me
about boundaries
and respect
and self-control.
thank you for showing me
friendship
when you could have shown me
disdain.
thank you for accepting apologies
that were two years too late
and continuing to inspire me
to reach for something more.

the last time i got a manicure
was the day i met you.
you helped me pick out the color,
a coral pink gel that i hated until you said it looked nice.
the longest we went without talking that day was the 5 minutes it took my nails to dry.
the manicure wore off after 2 weeks
but the crush certainly didn’t.

every day, without fail
for two years-
well, one and two thirds-
we’d pass each other in the hallway
and either smile,
or you’d say something-
something friendly, or weird, or obnoxious.

even when we were angry with each other,
we’d speak silently
with avoided eye contact
and brisk walks.

now, as i learn that we’ll never have a moment like that again,
the last one is burned into my mind.
you loudly joked
about me being sick,
when i passed you in the history hallway
like i did every single day this year.

i think i’m gonna miss those moments
more than i will ever admit to you.

people that actually listen to what you say are really important.
the ones who remember the little things,
like your favorite Bible verse
or the fact that you write poetry every night.
they'll never forget your birthday,
or where you want to travel one day.
they hear you.
they know you.

the other day i told you
that i love the smell of fresh laundry
warm to the touch,
it smells like home.
i said i loved gilmore girls
because watching it made me feel at home.
i never realized how desperately i cling
to the comforting feeling of being home.
my face fills with the same familiar warmth
when i sit too close to you on the bus
or lean on you at the game.
you feel like home
i never want to lose that feeling.

the day after we met
i told you
that i thought God put you in my life
to help me,
and you said you felt like we understood each other.
how did we form such a deep connection
having never seen each other in person,
and having only known each other for less than 24 hours?
that’s the kind of stuff that keeps me up at night.

I’m starting to finally realize
that you aren’t at all right for me.
It’s taken me almost an entire year
and a lot of sleepless nights
of crying and talking and staring at the ceiling,
and I don’t know if I’ll ever completely be able to stop wanting you in my life,
but it’s worth a shot.
Maybe I’ll let you go
instead of living a life that revolves around
a boy who decides day by day if i’m worth his time.

why do you still worship her,
when all she did was leave you broken?
you deserve better than this.

-to the guy in love with his ex

i’m falling for the little things about you
like the freckle on your right ear
or the way you fiddle with the emergency brake when there’s nothing to talk about.
i like the way you turn completely sideways in your seat to tell a story,
daring me to maintain eye contact from the passenger side.
i like the hat with your dad’s company’s name on it
and your patagonia pullover that you always wear.
i like that you bring a cup of coffee to school everyday
but make fun of me for drinking tea out of fancy teacups;
it seems as if i could like every little thing about you...

I get in this habit
of meeting someone
and free falling off a cliff
while they watch.

It’s destructive
because as I get to know them,
I create an image in my head
of someone perfect that things would work out with.

Months pass and relationships fade
but feelings don’t.
I always bring myself back into a situation that will never be real.

Eventually, I decide that I have moved on,
and then the next person comes along.
He feels like something new,
but like someone I’ve known my entire life.
I always marvel at this amazing concept,
of people being living contradictions,
but every person I fall for seems to be that way:
in my head he’s perfect;
in real life he’s far from it.

Why do you have this power over me?
I don’t love you
but you could ask for the world and I would get it for you.
Why do I let you use me?
I’m your *****-
you pay me in cheap conversations
and reassurance that I’ll find love one day.
I don’t want to do this
but yet here I go again,
back into our routine
just like you said.

in ten days it will have been a year
since the day you first spoke to me.
a year since you picked out the nail color that i wore for the first three weeks of my fifteenth year on this earth.
a year after we laughed at the boy who begged for me at every opportunity.
and a year after i ruined my life.

it’s almost silly
how perfect this is.
when i’m too sensitive
you’re logical and empathetic.
when i plan a perfect future
you tell me that it might not happen that way
and that that’s okay.
you want to be a leader
with intelligent advisors helping you along the way;
i would much rather help someone achieve great things than have the weight of the world on my shoulders.
when i’m distracted
you pull my focus back in.
when i’m discouraged
you tell me how it will all work out.
when i’m sad
you beg for me to confide in you.
when you convince yourself that you’re right
i offer a different perspective.
i haven’t seen home alone
and you haven’t seen mamma mia.
you’re a jfk
and i’m a jackie.

i miss the way i used to write:
how the words sprung from my fingertips
and painted beautiful images,
inspired emotions,
personified feelings.

i want to learn
how to love myself
instead of wasting time
loving boys who will never love me back.
maybe i should take a break from them:
the young men who make my heart flutter and sink all in the range of a 5 minute conversation
and focus on what really matters.
i should worry less about giving love to so many others
and worry more about giving it to myself.

you became a memory
in the same way you became a moment-
slow at first
with car rides
and football games.
with missed calls
and changed plans.
and then in a rush
of butterflies and smiles
of laughter and deep conversations-
of days without speaking
and nights spent thinking of someone else.

there are moments in life
when the only thought that occurs in your brain,
over and over like a scratched record,
is “i could be in love with someone like you”

i wish i could live forever in those moments
and my entire life would be filled with wonder.
id wake up to the sound of my own heartbeat
and fall asleep with my lips curled in a smile.