One.

When I first saw you I forgot you the next second. The next time I saw you I forgot you after a minute. Then after that when I saw you, I never forgot you.

Two.

When I first talked to you I didn't give a **** who you were. The next time I talked to you I thought your eyes were beautiful. Then after that, I was never able to gather enough courage to tell you.

Three.

You remind me of someone whom I loved in my past life, when I was young and stupid and had no idea what love was. You remind me of heartbreak. Of my pathetic attempts to stitch myself back together after being broken in half, of the stars I always wished I was part of. You remind me of cold nights and cold days, when no amount of heat could penetrate the chilling draft enclosing this empty shell. You remind me of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling incomprehensibly lonely and miserable, seeing how big the bed suddenly was.

Four.

I want to be away from you. I want to be somewhere, everywhere, anywhere, as long as I can't see you, as long as I can't feel my skin prickling with awareness telling me, "He's right here." I want to abandon everything I've built here because I don't want to see you anymore, I don't want to hear your voice, I don't want to feel its rich depth resonating in my chest, I'm sorry, I just don't want to be near you.

Five.

I write about you. I write poems, songs, stories about you, and when silence is screaming in my ears each one of those words sing a melody to me, carving my flesh out, gorging empty spaces inside me. When the rest of the world is talking so loudly all I can hear is my mind yelling, my heart squeaking, each one of the letters I wrote weave in and out of my mind's eye, and each wasted ink, each drained pen, taunts me. Why am I writing about you?

Six.

I am not the kind of girl who normally says things like this. I don't want to say this. What I want is to burn these papers and all the dancing strokes of all these wasted ink, to watch this inanimate funeral pyre send its smoke spiraling towards heaven, to scatter the ashes into the vast ocean so I can never see this again, so I will never remember you, so I will forget I wrote anything for you. And maybe if I tried hard enough I can pretend I never met you. Maybe I can pretend you never meant anything to me.

Seven.

I hate you.

Eight.

I hope you burn in hell.

Nine.

I hope I'm not in love with you.

Ten.

She's a lot better than I am. Eleven. I will never be as beautiful as she is. Twelve. Don't worry you won't have to make a choice, because I will never be able to say this to your face. Thirteen. If you ever realize I'm talking about you, don't speak to me again, because I'd rather disappear, I'd rather run away than face you. Fourteen. I'm sorry I'm an idiot because--

Fifteen.

I'm in love with you.

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

What is our life? The play of passion.
Our mirth? The music of division:
Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.
The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,
Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss.
The graves which hide us from the scorching sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus playing post we to our latest rest,
And then we die in earnest, not in jest.

He came to me one night
when I was cold and alone,
I was halfway through with it,
an inch from the bone.
He whispered so gently
as he laid me down on the bed,
"what aspect of life
put these thoughts in your head?"

"I don't breathe like I used to,"
I told him, as his image blurred,
"I ask for their help
but they don't say a word."
His vice like fingers
clamped onto my wrist,
"Not on this night, child.
You don't die like this."

Before I could figure out
what I thought he meant,
he opened his mouth,
"my dear, be patient.
For life is a hurdle
in the relay of death,
your time on this earth
is not over yet.

"When you reach the finish
then I'll come for you,
but until that moment,
here's what you'll do;
each problem that throws
itself in your sight,
promise me you won't
give up with no fight.

"The days when you
think you're over and done,
just look in the mirror,
you've already won.
Because you made it this far
through so many years,
you've conquered your demons
and outweighed your fears.

"The pills in the bottle
can wait a while longer,
because with each passing day
you've gotten much stronger.
I don't offer my help
to little girls who suffer,
I'll be breaking the hearts
of the ones that love her.

"Do you see now, child,
what I'm saying to you?
Your time is not up,
your life will ensue."
I bit down on my lip,
and nodded my head,
and just like that,
he disappeared from my bed.

That was the time,
that Death saved my life,
so if you ever want to end it,
just remember his advice.
Don't think of the pain,
and how it'll end soon,
because Death talks a lot,
when he enters your room.


a.d.

people do not die.

they
fall through pavement
or slide under semi-trucks
or glide off bridges
into the soft embrace of water
into a place
in another state

and i don't ever see them
because they moved away
but they will be back
and maybe it's hard to keep in contact
long distance
relationships
****
but someday we'll hang out again
and it will be weird at first
because we will have changed
and
grown
but after a while
it will feel
just the same