The moment I think back on
the most
isn't when
                   we learned to samba
                we saw each other naked
              our lips met for the first time
or even when we said I love you.
Its our last night together,
the night we
            played cards with your family
       slept in your twin bed
    couldn't work the DVD player
and took our first bedroom picture.
It was the night when
    I woke up and cried quietly
until you felt my tears on your skin
    You wrapped me up and rocked me back to sleep
    You whispered I'm here over and over again.
Don't you remember, love?
*It was the night before you left (me).

the way he rolled his cigarettes was godly
and i know baby that you miss how he tastes of smoke and loneliness
and i know that you miss breathing in his aroma of stale coffee and sweat

you told me about how his hands caressed you like you were a whisper
and how he bit into your skin like you were something to be devoured

I stayed up so late just to re-read
the things we talked about,
And laughed throughout
Each funny line you'd write.

To see your name in a blur
on my phone's screen,
It's not so bad to me.

to be able to pretend
you were laying right next to me,
I stayed up so late.

sometimes you're like homework
so confusing
and i just stare at you
absent-mindedly
hating you
yet you're important to me
it's so hard to finish you
and i lose inspiration every now and then
but when i get high as my grades
i come running back to you

i can't wait to graduate from school
get rid of this infatuation
we would be adults by then
and hopefully this mess will be sorted out

It Hurts
It hurts knowing
it will never be the same
having to see you
with someone else
acting like it doesn't cause me pain
seeing you laughing
having a good time
while i wonder
why i can't call you mine
while my eyes are filled with tears
and i can only see blurry
i take a deep breath
and tell myself not to worry
because deep down i know what's true
i am still deeply in love with you
~J.O

i catch myself staring
& wanting to preserve you in words*

but the page is blank,
the ink has run dry,
my eyes are glued on you
& i wish my lips were too.

you loved me
& i love you

It's a reference
point, one where
people fall in love,
get married, have
children of their
own, a cycle so
known it's as if
its seed has been
sewn into our
souls, a seed that
is reluctantly teased
in me like a fly in the
background that 
inches further away;
small leaps at first
then bigger over  
streets, cities, countries, 
I shout to it but no