this feels so new york
listening to smooth jazz
        drinking wine and coffee
in your room with the
                     hard floors
and the
                 soft bed

and hearing you say words like
                   fantastic
                                                and
                  i'm not tired

we stay up until 2 am,
me in a cocktail dress and heels,
you in a tux

and honey, we're running
          on central time.

in New York, it's only midnight.

remember when we were teenagers

and you smoked *** and
i cut myself


and your mom hated me
because i'm an atheist

and how in love we were
and how much you made my heart beat

and how we used to make love
at any given second that we could have alone

because our bodies felt like they were meant to fit together


and then i moved away

and i broke up with you
because
you didn't have this list of things i thought i deserved
like a job
a loving family
a good college education
good spelling
a desperate searching want to get out of this ******* place and be something better than you were.


i was selfish
to let you go

but

god, i loved you.
if i have ever been so sure of something in my life,

it was that i loved you.

my mouth is so full of questions

did you ever love me?
or did you love the things i represent?

did you just love the fact that i'm independent, that i'm a feminist, that i write poetry, that i like video games, that i have a nice smile?
did i give you a clear vision of a future, of where we would live in a perfect little teacup house with our perfect little children

or did i make your heart thump?
did i ever actually make you feel things?

did you ever see something so beautiful that there were no words to describe it
but you wanted so badly to try anyway

not so you could tell someone that you had that experience
but just because it made you feel something




did you want me to meet your grandmother because you wanted to spread love and joy in all directions?
or because you saw a future with me
a future wife
and you wanted to be able to say to your perfect future children
that I had met your grandmother
and I could vouch for you
when you said she was great

was it all just a metaphor

i'm so confused

because you
you say that you loved me
but now i don't think that either of us knew what the **** that meant.

we had *** in the shower, pressed up against each other like some **** movie
******* each other, searching frantically for ******

when,
if we really loved each other

we would have been just fine
making love in a bed, kissing each other sweetly




but then again

i don't really know.
does anyone really know

i mean really know when they're in love

or do we all just think we are


because love is such a big scary thing
that
no one can see it.
maybe i'm projecting.

maybe this is all just how i felt
and how i could never tell you
that i wanted to make myself feel something

but, it's a problem that i've had for a long time.
i can't ever make myself feel anything.


because it's like a high

and i don't want to feel numb anymore

why do i have such a desperate screaming want need to plunge into something
and yet
how do i even begin to do it in a healthy way
without hurting myself, hurting him, hurting you, hurting me

because you gave my heart a beat
that's a scary thought.
is it too soon
is it right
is the time right
is this right
my soul is so confused
and it wants so many answers

all i know
is that you gave my heart a beat.


it's a good measure of how much you like someone
when you forget that time exists and that
the world is still turning
at four in the morning

and you're still writing poems and breathing in
and out
listening to your heart beat


and you are completely ready to risk
your whole heart
and a whole lot of pain and suffering
just because you like
where this might be heading.


you can go to sleep tonight,
knowing that you gave my heart a beat.

which is something i gave up on a long time ago

we are kind of a new kind of brand of cool

if we had gone to the same high school
i would have had a crush on you because you play piano

and you would have had a crush on me because
you always secretly thought that weird girls are hot and interesting

but we never would have spoken
because you would have been too afraid that your friends would have disapproved

and i would have thought that you were stuck up and not worth my time


and we would have been so mean to each other




isn't it wonderful the way that life works out sometimes.
it's really hilarious, when you think about it.

and by that i mean
i am in complete awe of you.

and that's probably why i get quiet when i'm around you.
my brain shuts down
the only ***** in my entire body that works anymore is my heart
the beat quickens and
i can hear my own thump thump
desperately wanting to hold you close enough
so you can hear it, too

blood pumping to my fingertips,
wrapped around whatever i can get a hold onto
to keep from falling---

I get quiet around you
because
i am too engrossed in the feelings that you inject into me,
when you speak
when your gorgeous ruined torn up fingers scatter themselves across piano keys

just the sound of your voice
it seems to resonate in my ears


and i can't help but feel as though my heart might explode
from all the beauty i have stumbled across
in this otherwise, very lonely terrifying world

I'm turning this **** around right now.

Valentine's day is about love.
It's not about whether you've got someone to hug and kiss.

It's about making mix CDs.
It's about having someone smile at you in the hallway on your way to class.
It's about calling your grandma.
It's about giving a little extra when you've got enough to live on.


It's about spreading love;

not worrying that you didn't receive enough.



so get off your ***.
go love someone.

You only get this excuse once a year
to do something perfectly wonderful
for another human being.