one.

    When she cries herself to sleep
    six out of seven nights a week you must
    say nothing. You must simply take
    her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
    pale cheeks and wait for her to
    slumber at the sound of your heart.

two.

    On the days where she wishes she
    were part of the stars, tell her
    no. Tell her that there are too many
    lights in the sky and that just one
    would be forgotten the moment you looked
    away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
    the way she is: completely human.

three.

     Don't let her think about the scars
     that no one but her can see. If she
     says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
     know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
     But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
     must be the one to do it herself, and you
     merely are there to quietly encourage her.

four.

     Read her poetry (even if you are
     not a poet), the kind that uses
     flowery words and compares girls to
     the moon; the kind that you will
     rewrite for her. Make her a warrior.
     Make her a goddess with eyes like a
     wolf's and a smile like a tiger's.

five.

     Laugh with her the first thing in
     the morning and the last thing before
     you fall asleep. Tell her cheap puns
     that you've been thinking of for weeks.
     And when she smiles - the type of smile
     that could bring you to your knees if
     you aren't careful - know that for the
     moment, she's yours. She is whole.

six.

    Love her. Love her like a fish loves
    the sea or a bird loves the sky. Love
    her in the way that your heart feels like
    it's going to burst at any moment every
    time it beats. Love her skin and the way
    it feels against your own, soft and warm
    and utterly flawless. Love her for the way
    her voice trembles when she can't keep it
    together anymore and love her when she
    holds onto you as if you were the only
    thing that was keeping her alive.

seven.**

     Love her, because some days she just can't do it herself.

When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.

I shouldn't let it bother me.
I'm starting to think
there's something wrong with my head.
I'd like to think everyone would tell me to let go.
I'd like to think I would if I knew how.
I still write you poems.
Not on paper of course,
I can't just leave them around your house anymore.
I found one in the corner of my ceiling last night.
It had something about the ocean and your skin.
I smiled.
I've forgotten the way you looked at me.
It's better this way.
It's exhausting;
knowing you still exist, figuring out if I still do too.
You understood,
that's more than I can say for anyone else.
Most days break me.
I stand up most of the time
and remember how you taught me that's okay.

One day
I want to write a poem
That captures your soul
In the adjectives
Describing the sky

One day
I want to write a sentence
That you will carry
In your memory
Scarred and stained
For an infinity

One day
I want to write a short story
Of a guy
A lot like you
And a girl
A lot like me
With no lies
Only honesty
And a forever that lasted
Just a while

One day
I want to write a paragraph
About the sea in you
And the sea in me
And how we fell in
Each other
And never needed to come up for air

One day
I want to write a dictionary
With all of our own definitions
Of everyone else's words
It will start from the letter Z
And end on A
Because it will be easier
That way

One day
I want to write an essay
On how the sunlight
Made patterns on your skin
Even after you lied
And shadowed the constellations
Screaming honesty
Into the dark

One day
I want to write a novel
About the way your voice
And his voice
Sounded
Just before
You both were about to cry

One day
I want to write lyrics
For the song
I meant to sing to you
About the moon
And the sun
And how they dance
Whenever all of our eyes are closed
Even if it's just for a second
(Light
Always travels faster
Than sound)

One day
I want to write you a telegram
With someone else's hand
To tell you
How much I miss you
And how my heart
Is not in my chest anymore
Really-
It's shattered across the sky
Just for you to see

One day
I want to write you a letter
To tell you
That you didn't know what love is
And neither did I

But
I still love you

Writer’s block does not exist,
there’s only uncreative writers,
and those who don’t care enough
to care so much.
As the former,
I will write this in my quietest voice:
I am okay,
I am okay,
I am okay.
Few would care to know,
fewer would care if they knew.
But it is the truth,
and I am in no business
of making truths I cannot keep.
I no longer write with tired eyes.
I no longer think with shaking hands.
I am no longer transparent,
or translucent,
or opaque.
I am okay.
I know this because I woke up today.
Simply that.
I woke up today,
and I am not empty.

when i was a kid, i pretended i could
breathe underwater so that if i was
ever caught in a wave for too long
i wouldn't panic- but now my hands are
shaking and i can feel my lungs getting tight
and my ear drums are starting to pound, and
these ceilings are
crushing
me.