Go on and give me the cold shoulder
It fits your icy personality
Don’t bring your pompous nose out of the air
To look at the people below you
You’re better than that now
A little insignia on your clothing
Has you forgetting who your friends were
When you needed them most
Well next time you need a friend
You can turn to that insignia
Because I am a stubborn child at heart
Who holds on to everything

I cling to the day we met
A couple of anxious teenagers preparing to step into adulthood
Watching movies past midnight
Downing an entire six pack of pineapple juice
Not sure where the next year would take us

I remember the day I learned to trust you
In silent desperation I opened up to you
And showed you the fringed edges of my soul
The parts of myself that have been bruised by the short life I’ve lived

I can’t forget the day you came to me in tears
And I was there to comfort you
And even then you didn’t know why you were crying
We sat and cried together
Because we realized how cruel people can be

But more then anything I hold on to the way your eyes no longer meet mine
I can’t get over the way you choose to deny my existence
Like I am a lowly creature
And you, with your lofty gaze and your newfound love for yourself have better things to look at

So keep your eyes in the sky, because someday that is where I will be
And you will have to look at the ground, if you want to pretend I don’t exist anymore.

I was reading this little story today.
A group of four-year olds were asked
“What is love?”
The answers were humorous.
They were cute, even true…
But I came across one
That made me think of you.
“I know my older sister loves me,
Because she gives me her old clothes,
And she has to go out and buy new ones.”
I smiled at this,
But thought about it some…
This little girl is right.
I’ve given you buckets of clothes.
I’d give you the shirt off my back,
Because an older sister’s love
Is the most selfless act.
I love you more than I love shoes,
Or the way it smells after it rains,
Or our conversations we have in the car.
You’re more than the sum of our memories,
And you’re more than our shared genetics,
You’re my best friend forever…
You always were, really,
Because who else would just let me cry
Over the stupidest things
While you just listen?
You always were the pretty one,
But you make me feel just as gorgeous.
I know I’m not.
But thanks for letting me believe it.
You’ve tested my patience a billion times,
But it only made me love you more.
You let me learn self-control,
You showed me how to love peoples’ flaws.
I chuckle.
I used to write you stories,
And now I write you poems.
My poems for you are my favorite ones, anyway.

I remember the day we first met.

Two scrawny, energetic young scamps too excited to make the transition into our education.
From day one, we were together.
All day, every day.
People asked us if we were brother and sister.
And everytime, our answer quickly escaped our grins...
                       Yes.

Let's fast-forward to the third grade.
Our heads were still innocent enough not to know the flaws
we would eventually have but I was still mature enough to know
that when you walked up to me that morning with
tears and terror streaming down your face,
letting the words "My mom left us" seep through your painful gasps.

I was nine years old when I first saw someone's heart break.
I tried to sweep the pieces back up and glue them back together...but I failed.
It wasn't until later that night that my mom woke me
in the middle of the night to explain that your mother didn't leave,
but went to prepare a safe hiding spot from your father's fists.
We talked on the phone every night until you came back.
The stupid chatter of whatever a nine year old even thinks about
tying up the phone lines for hours at a time.
That was the first time you told me you loved me
It was the first time first time I ever believed it.

Now let's fast forward to the seventh grade.
Junior high.
A boiling *** of hormones and hate.
By this point, I hadn't talked to you in two months.
The judging panel of life had already confirmed what I knew was to happen.
Bubbly, boy-crazy blond girl rises to the top
Insecure, boy-crazy ****** boy sinks like a boulder.

I was thirteen when I first felt my heart break.
My eyes were opened to the **** life was ready to dump on my doorstep.
I knew that lines were to be drawn
I just never would have guessed we'd be on opposite sides.
I got called ******.
You called yourself silent.

Next, let's talk about year that ended everything: senior year.
A year of endings.
Graduation from the hell hole that was high school.
Leaving my mother for the first time since birth
Leaving my friends since the first day we stepped onto the playground together
thirteen years earlier.

We started off strong.
We were determined to end our school years the way we started them: together.
We would go off to the same college, get an apartment,
and everything was going to be fine.

Six months had passed
We hadn't spoken for one of them.
You had me pegged as your sworn enemy.
I was terrified to wake up in the morning
because I knew I would have to look at you
instead of seeing you.

I was eighteen when you broke my heart for the final time.
Your army of farm-town morally upright teenagers
had done their best to destroy me.
But I still walked. I still dragged myself around,
****** and bruised from your attacks.
I thought things were cooled down.
I just wanted out.
Then you said it.
That final day.
You called me a ******
and said you hated me.

Now, almost a year later, whenever I think of you my eyes start welling up.
Your words, spoken and unspoken, still sting.
I know that I hate you.
But I don't know why I still care.

What I do know is that I don't need you.
I've met the most wonderful group of people
far greater than I could have ever imagined.
But still, whenever I'm with them, I'm thinking of you.
Wondering what I need to do for them that I didn't do for you.
I just hope their feet are more stable than yours.
I can't handle anyone else running away.

I tried writing you a letter the first of May but my heart shot my hand with a silver bullet.

I tried dancing in your dreams but the sunrise stole you away.

I poisoned your cup with my tears but in your smile they dissolved.

I tried walking into your presence but my head crippled this body.

I tried.
To stop.
Trying.

Now how do I nurse these wounds?

This village of two hundred and fifty six people probably won’t ever be ready for you.
Your secret will haunt the community for as long as it takes them to pretend you don’t exist
At first people may scream and cry
Fathers will load their shotguns and little old ladies will lock their doors
Afraid that you are bold enough to profess your love for another man
But behind the bolted windows and petrified stares
Know that you are not alone
Supporters will come from the most unknown places
Someday we can hope this place will change
But that doesn’t mean you have to wait to be honest with yourself
This place will always be filled with gossip
Where news is spread between hair dryers at the local salon
And political conservatism is ten times bigger then the grocery store
In this small corner of the world, where kind words and friendly greetings are waiting on every street corner you will meet the disgusting face of hatred
But when hatred dies, love will come up from it’s ashes

We sit in this room talking and laughing
No judgement, no secrets
And a large box of M & M's shared among friends
I cherish each word and every obnoxious chortle
Every anecdote, which fills this space
I cling to this moment and wish for it to endure
While we sit in our private sector of the world
Set aside from the foundation shattering headlines and news bulletins
We neglect the impending deadlines created by worldly demands
For a moment nothing on earth matters