you are eighteen and you're in love
with a boy who hates his birthday.
you don't know it yet,
but the world gets so much bigger than the back of his car.
you think he needs you to be happy and so does he
but both of you are wrong.
it'll take you almost a year to stop crying.
and then you don't talk for another three
and when you finally do,
he thinks he still knows you,
but your heart is heavier than it was then.
and you **** him because you're lonely
but it isn't the same.
neither of you can fake love.
at least he still makes you laugh.
you'll pretend it's enough
because at least he's a body.
at least you're not by yourself.
at least you're alive
and you're good at *******.
because bodies are distractions
from the things we hide inside them.
you have him inside you
and he wants to gut you of your ugly, your sad.
he scrambles for an excuse not to stay the night
and you laugh.
you know what this is and how it goes
and you both love someone else.
you swear you won't **** him again
but you do anyway because you're still lonely
and you like the way his hands fit around your neck.
you **** him because it's good for your art
and you get bored of your own hands on your body
and you're fine with letting him feel useful.
and you think about when you were sixteen
and how *** was supposed to be special
and it makes you cry
because you're not who you wanted to be.
it makes you cry, because the world got so much bigger
after you left the backseat of his car.
the world is so big and you don't know
how it ended up on your shoulders.
you would have died for him.
you have been ready to die for every person you have ever loved.
you have dreams where he dies
and you can't save him.
you have dreams where people die
and you can't save them
and you're the one who tied your hands.
your mangled heart and all its bleeding.
nobody asked you to die.
what good is all the love in your chest
if you don't leave any for yourself?

- m.f.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

He said I love you, but you can't be my girl.
He said I was too valuable like a vintage car you keep in your garage and don't drive. But he said I was so beautiful he needed me in his life.

He said I was gorgeous, but he couldn't take me with him. He said I was so valuable that I was almost too fragile, and if he slipped his fingers off of me I might fall and shatter like fine glass.

He said I was brilliant, but I should lay back and relax. Let him take charge and take care of me. The best gift I could give him is my heart and he doesn't need my money.

A perfect image. Too perfect to be real. The truth was right in front of me if I would have just picked away the layers of lies. He had a woman and he only just wanted something pretty on the side. He wanted me to lean on him so I felt unable to leave.

Imagine seeing me one day after 15 years of not talking to each other. It will be on a local coffee shop where they have the best matcha drink one can ever dream of. You are sitting on the farthest end of the room, with an art book in hand; earphones blasting indie electronic songs you have been listening to u purposely use earphones to let people leave you alone. You dive in the world of art. Breathing heavily, you gasp for some air. You lift your head up to take a sip of your drink, and right when you’re ready to read again, you get distracted of a familiar voice.

I’ll be wearing jeans and my favorite A Rocket to the Moon shirt I got from their last concert. Earphones blasting their songs. A book in my hand, a pen and some paper. You smile upon hearing I got the same drink as you, watch me sat down on the corner, immediately opening my book (carefully).

You will watch me for some time and realize it’s just creepy so you gather up all your things and your courage, come up to me and say hi. But you stop and settle in the table next to me. I see you and tears water my eyes. You choke on your bagel. I stand up, sit next to you and say hi. You see the book I’m reading. It’s your favorite Dr. Seuss book. You will give me a look and I’ll start laughing. I will try to stop to tell you “I told you I read one page everyday.”

After that conversation, we will stay in touch. Not just in words but with actions. We will rekindle the love I believe never died. It will be a rocky adventure, but we will make it. We will go on roadtrips, blasting old Passion Pit songs. We will fulfil every promise we made when we were still in college. We will visit every island there is to explore. We will travel. Together. We will grow.

One day, I will wake up with the smell of pancakes you’re cooking for me. I will eagerly get up, shower you with kisses before I brush my teeth, and ask you if we have orange juice for breakfast. You will laugh (oh, that heavenly sound) and kiss me, saying, “You never liked orange juice. That is not welcome in our home.” I will pull you close and tell you, “You called it home, not house. That’s something.”

Soon enough, I will see you with our four-year-old wearing a unicorn onesie like yours, reading to her the Dr. Seuss book you gave me when we started our pause. You will fall asleep faster than she does, she will try to wake you up, I will stop her. I will tuck her in and carry you back to our room. I will watch you, and try to wake you. You will snore for a second, pull me in and tell me it’s time for bed.

I will whisper words before cuddling you to sleep again: “It was a rocky start, love, but I want to believe that it will get better. I’m going to make sure I’ll still be there to see it. I actually am seeing it now. If one draws attention to our cracks, they will just see colors that glued this wonderful piece together. We started with hickeys and matching shirts, let us end up with a shared surname. Can I just end with this note: Loving you feels very close to flying. Tomorrow I will ask you to marry me, I hope you say you will.”

I cry
Not only because I feel alone

I see others out there
Not knowing what to do

You say
You have something to offer

Please come to my
Windowpane and tap lightly

As the devil
Stands on my welcome mat

Beating down the door

What do I do, do I invite him in
To begin another round of chaos

Or do I wait for your gentle rap
On my windowpane

Remember
The day we first met and you fell asleep holding me.
Remember
The day you tried to ask me on a date and I got scared and invited my bestfriend.
Remember
The night we fell asleep in the back of your stepdads truck.
Remember
When we spent an entire night sending each other Avatar the Last Airbender pickup lines.
Remember*
Our first kiss and how perfect it was.
Remember
All those nights we slept on FaceTime.
Remember
All those nights we spent watching Netflix, curled up in each others arms.
Remember
All the times we use to wrestle and you'd pin me against you.
Remember
All those drives we'd take holding hands, music blaring.
Remember
All the inside jokes we had. All the different names we would have for things.
Remember
How we always got butterflies.
Remember
How we looked at each other like there was no one else in the world.
Remember
The way our skin felt pressed against each other.
Remember
The night you painted my nails.
Remember
The day I rode my bike across town just because you wanted me there.

I remember all of it. I remember every memory. Every feeling. I close my eyes and remember it like it is still happening. So tell me...

*Do you still remember when?