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Dying! Dying in the night!
Won’t somebody bring the light
So I can see which way to go
Into the everlasting snow?

And “Jesus”! Where is Jesus gone?
They said that Jesus—always came—
Perhaps he doesn’t know the House—
This way, Jesus, Let him pass!

Somebody run to the great gate
And see if Dollie’s coming! Wait!
I hear her feet upon the stair!
Death won’t hurt—now Dollie’s here!

I feel like she was fleeting.
her love depending on the day.
on the pick of a petal.
she loves me (keeping my voice on her phone)
she loves me (walking from lunch)
she loves me (pep band games)
but then, I go to the next petal.
she loves me not. (forgetting to text back)
she loves me not. (not knowing how to react)
and even though it hasn't been picked yet.
she loves me not. (leaving me)

I first learned the definition of clingyness when I met you.

clingyness is when someone is too emotionally attached; when they just can't give it up; when they're too close to someone; when they can't just throw in the towel; they have too much money on the game.

but clingyness is something you show none of.

some how it is so easy for you to just give it up.

you are like a 911 operator; people call you; people ask you for help, you give them help; you stop caring.

when I first walked into the strange building with no red no white all gold; when I climbed the stairs for the third time that first day; when I finally found a familiar face and heard them say I was finally gonna meet; when I saw you, I was drawn.

your name had lingered once on my lips before I was desiring your lips on mine; your greeting had rolled off my tongue once before I poised it to speak paragraphs of your greatness; your image had sat in my temporal lobe once before my cerebellum was telling my fingers to pick up a pen and write things for you.

you were like the sun and I was a planet orbiting around you; I was pretty much like pluto; you had so many planets around you; your effects barely reached me; everyone forgot about me; I still orbited around you because I had no choice; even though she did receive benefits and no one forgot her your venus felt the same way; you were your own mercury.

you may be smart; you may be able to balance equation in your sleep; you may speak circles around a college professor but if you were truly smart you would know how a treat a women the way that they should be treated.

see you have this way of making women feel like the only way they'll be loved is by being broken; like there is some innate limit on the intake and output of love; like love works like a speed limit; this is so toxic; when I first got pushed away by you I thought it was perfectly okay to hurt myself to receive love from you; the joke was on me because you spent all your love on yourself; maybe that's why you push everyone away you can't give or receive love; so I gave all my love to you and it bounced back but didn't go to me it was just wasted in the air kind of like when I said I loved you as you walked away and ****** I know you heard me.

I was too close to you; when you chose her I cringed; it was my fault; I'm too clingy.

when i began drifting out of your arms and into hers I realized that wholeness is valuable; love doesn't have a limit; I shouldn't have clung to someone who treated me the way you did; I cling to her now but it's okay because things are reciprocated.

she makes my heart
beat
just a little faster.

Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.

in the asexual community,
a lot is done to coddle the ****** interests of those who don't feel ****** attraction.
the thing is, *** negatives are often ignored.
*** positives get countless affirmations, but *** negative are pushed under the rug.
simply put, all people are important regardless of ****** desire.

I have this little pink composition notebook with that title written across it.
After feverishly writing in it while I was in Europe, a ******* our trip asked what I meant by that title.
I made up some excuse,
because when you are stuck in a room with three girls, the last thing you want to admit is that you aren't quite a girl.
This notebook is full of prose and poetry about gender and binaries and prefixes that a national merit scholar has trouble understanding.
Most people on that trip would not need a notebook on why they don't belong.
Because they do,
and I do not.

a poets sin may be the words they create,
but when you said poetry isn't pretty
you forgot about your own.
and in violet,
you have truly succeeded
in speaking the language.
your words are concise in a way that mine will never be.
but you are amazing.