I want to show you the corners of the world.

Yes, you're beautiful. No, I don't want a ****** relationship.

My anxiety is the dream of a knife
almost a romantic fantasy of something physical that
could cause me the pain or discomfort that really
is just coming from my self
from some thought that I’ve swallowed or stumbled into or onto and now it’s mine
I cannot escape it.

Now it’s my burden and the choices are
to feast on it
or to ignore it until its white noise boiling on the backburner is all but a noose around my neck.

The laughable, socially acceptable third option is of course
the bottle of red or
the little white pill
from the purple bottle
exchanged from the pink slip
handed over by a worried lip.

I’ll read you poetry,
even if you don’t want to listen.
I’ll bring you flowers,
even when you say you don’t want them.
I’ll collect all the pieces you dropped
on your way from the front door
to the bedroom,
even though you told me
to leave them where they were.
I will bring you tea in bed,
and extra blankets on soft Winter nights
when snow gently covers foggy streetlights.
I will love you on days
when the Sun is too lazy to show its face
and I will love you on days
when you are too weak to show yours too.
I will love you on days
when your ears are ringing
and your fingers are numb.
I will love you on days
that start with the letter “M”,
or “T” or “W” or “F” or “S”
or any other letter that has or will ever exist,
and I will love you on days
even when you feel I shouldn’t be able to.
I will fill your cracks with grace
and stitch your wounds with everything
that I have left.
Please trust me,
I promise my hands will be steady,
even though they shake
when you reach for them.

My eyes have been dry the past few days,
my mouth too.
I’ve been wearing my glasses more
and drinking too much water.
Is it possible to drink too much water?
Some say you can never drink too much.
I’m not sure.
All I know is that I can’t dilute
the concentration of you in my blood.
It’s become too thick.
I’ve been tripping over cracks and
folded carpet corners that don’t exist.
I’m not sure how I find my footing again
with the pounding in my head
and all the silence in my bones.
It’s the kind of silence I wish
I could share with you.
I’ve been tripping over myself,
like there’s knots holding me together.
And I’ve seen your fingers tie knots before,
how you delicately labor over each one.
How the perfect amount of string
is always left over for them.
I’ve seen you tie knots before,
because you’ve tied them with my heart,
and I don’t think they’ll ever come undone.
Oh, I don’t think they’ll ever come undone.

I woke up early today.
There’s no point in continuing to sleep
when I’m no longer dreaming about you.
Every hour through the night is spent
with you inside my head,
and sometimes my mind makes me forget it
so I’ll live it in reality instead.
Last night I dreamed that everything you’ve done
was done all over, except this time with me.
You might not have even noticed,
but I was there.
I saw your face change with the seasons,
and your heart change with them too.
I saw how you handled rainy days
when the sky refused to be blue.
I was there while you sat up through the night,
through the day.
I was there for every smile
and every mistake.
I was there.
And I’m still here.
It’s rainy outside today,
but I’m happier than ever.
You might be there,
I might be here,
but I’ll see you again tonight.

Some nights I’m not filled with words,
I’m just filled with so much of you.
You’re making more space in this ribcage;
it was always saving a spot
for your heart anyways.
You give the moon light to reflect,
and I swear the stars would fall for you tonight.