remember when we were in third grade
and we would make it our goal to trample
every single patch of fresh snow that hadn’t been touched yet?
i don’t even know why we were so determined to touch
the previously untouched,
but it made us feel so happy, so proud, so accomplished.
Perhaps it was our first taste of true ownership,
perhaps it gave us a feeling similar to that of Christopher Columbus when he declared
that the world was not, in fact, flat.
Perhaps it was an embryonic stage of rebellion,
a metaphor for a loss of innocence,
trampling and touching and ruining what was once
a pretty, unadulterated patch of snow,
as if to make a statement against anyone and anything
that had ever made us feel
weak and stupid and insignificant, and
powerless.
We were the only two kids at recess who thought of it, who found such
simple pleasure in doing it, who bonded over it, and now,
we don’t even talk anymore.
Perhaps it was a metaphor
for the deterioration of a friendship, too.

slept in till noon
spent the afternoon
staring at the wall
hoping if I could sit still long enough
it would be enough time
for me to thaw
then I left for work
and slipped on the ice
i guess we won't know
what's become of us
until the winter is
finally gone

one of us is going
to die

which one will you
let it be?

maybe you let it happen because hearing the words
i love you
had more of a lasting effect on you than almost any other means
of self abuse you had tried to drown yourself in throughout your lifetime

maybe you let it happen because you liked being able
to escape
from all of the cacophony that had been
bumbling around in your head for weeks, months, years

maybe you let it happen because you were trying to forget
something
someone once told you while they were drunk and indifferent
sitting next to you at a bar, the kind of thing someone mumbles to you
right before they fall asleep and you're the only one who can recite it
word for word as if to savour the sting the next morning,
something you feel guilty for even remembering at all.

maybe you let it happen because you knew
that all of the terrible things that had been done to you
could never be proven, scientifically or otherwise
because you knew from an early age that
words were meaningless and you'd been living so long
inside the jaded surface of their hollow shell you needed
something tangible something or someone who would
scoop you up and eat you like ice cream
even if they only did it for the sake of their own
shameless unadulterated selfish enjoyment regardless
of the devastating consequences.

maybe you let it happen because you had been left
so many times you figured the words
i love you
were better than death itself
even if you knew those words were not real
even if the person who said them really never meant them
even if you never had the chance to discover
what that statement truly means
at all

but you would keep searching for it anyway
even if you kept finding it
in the wrong places
time and time again.

i simply cannot fathom
going out every single
saturday night
the world is cold and vicious enough as it is,
and we all know
that nighttime is different universe,
alcoholics covering up their scars with the slogans like
"i'm young and i'm allowed to have fun" or
"YOLO!"
bars full to the brim with
**** yous and what's your numbers and i'm-in-the-mood-to-start-a-fight-bro
don't  get me wrong, it is fun
to go out sometimes
but after a while it gets old
because the world is cold and vicious enough as it is
i much prefer sleeping or
curling up with a book and a blanket and a hot mug of tea
cuddling with solitude while listening
to Sufjan or Regina or Elliott or Joni
or watching a disney movie,
where i feel safe,
clinging to a place
where the world won't ruin me.

i wish you would have told me
that you would never be ready for me to grow up
i wish you would have held me
and gently pushed my hair behind my ear and whispered;
"my love is limited."

had you warned me perhaps i would have had an easier time
admitting i was fragile
how long does fragility last?
had you told me when i was small perhaps it would have been easier
for me realize i had the power to choose
whether or not you could hurt me
that is, if it is true that we have a say
in who hurts us.
is it a choice?

i don't know, but perhaps if i knew you wouldn't be staying
in my life for the long run
i would have let go of you sooner
instead of finding myself trapped
between knowing i need to let go of you now
but hardly grasping on to understanding what that really means
at all.

think that you got so used to people

leaving you when they should have stayed

that you became one of them without even realizing it

and as i watched you walk away from me and into

that house, i knew

you had no idea the damage you have caused yourself

or the other people who love you so much more than words

could ever articulate

and i didn’t know whether to feel sorry for you

or to be like you,

simply detached.