i hope someday someone fixes you
(not fixes you,  really, that  word is
too  harsh)    i  hope  someone  will
love you enough for    you    to love
them back, for those gaping   holes
in your stories,inyour chest,inyour
futurethatyoualreadyhaveplanned
out to be sewn up tight and secure.
i hope  someday   you  let  someone
help  you  g e t  your  ****  together,
that you want to make it work     so
badly that you grovel, that you beg,
that you spit  your  guts  out  on the
sidewalk outside their house just to
prove    your point. i hope someday
y   o   u   '   r   e          h   a   p   p   y   .

i've started to put myself
back together with the pieces
i have left sitting around in my
apartment and while some of the
original sections are missing it seems
they've been replaced with something
like sugar, something like sunshine,
something like me with a slightly
warmer tint

i shot off rockets into the sky months ago
that burst into words to  remind me to
keep going     keep breathing     keep
holding my heart   higher than the
river of   y o u r   hands that was
flooding down  m y  street and
threatening   to   break  down
my  door.  i  put all  my  best
pieces in aboxandsentthem
to myself    (cc: my closest
friends)   and i am ready
to get them back, to put
my    h e a r t   on   my
sleeve where i have
always  kept it,  to
have you   f e e l
from across this
town that you did
not break me, did not
damage   me,  did   n o t
destroy my gumption or my
eagerness to take on the world,
did not make me into something
i am not.   i am a    worrier but    a
w        a        r         r        i         o         r
and  i  will  not  stop  going  until  my
head is quiet and my hands are still.
and  this  thing you  did  to me- this
supposedly life altering thing- will
just be a soft  reminder  of  only
the  climb i  made  to get  me
back    to    where    i    am.

i said goodbye to the first
part of you in Lawrence
thirteen days ago walking
pastthatantiquemall.itrailed
my fingers on its brick and
thought of you reclaiming
my heart in its basement
and i did not want to turn
into dust, did not feel like
melting into the nearest
gutter. i simply took my
hand from the stone,
continued telling
jillian about how
they closed our
hookah bar,
breathed
the early
fall air.

you were a
month for
healing, for
becoming
whole again

there used to be this
seam running through
a cushion on my couch
and i picked it picked it
picked it out of nervous
habit, mostly, and people
were starting to notice it.
i borrowed some thread
from my mom yesterday
and sewed it up, finally.
it felt a little like closure.
it felt a little bit like
goodbye, ryan.