the doctor smells the smoke on my clothes,
'i thought you didn't smoke'
i don't, but he lingers.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved

but you ignore my texts when you’re out with the guys,
and you talk about girls that catch your eye,
and you tell me all this like it’s not killing me inside.

and your hands are drunk on caffeine,
and they run all over me,
and when i told you to stop, you didn’t listen,
and when you did you stopped talking and wouldn’t look me in the eyes,
and you didn’t even have the decency to walk me to the door to leave.
i said goodbye, you say ok,
and didn’t move an inch or even look at me,

and i got to class late,
but it wasn’t as late as realization that i’m not nearly important to you
like you are to me

but unlike creative writing,
i’m already failing in the subject of you
and i don’t know why i keep trying.

NJ2015 (All Rights Reserved)

I used to hate the smell of cigarettes,
until it became the smell of you.

Now I cover my mouth,
I cover my nose,
and bathe in your smoke.

Suffocating, but it's okay.
I'd rather suffocate in your arms
than have time very slowly take my breath away.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved

this is the first time I've written about you
in twelve months.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved.

spring cleaning in the form of blasting your bands music
while i pick up the clothes that smell like him.

spring cleaning in the form of replaying the day I walked away
over and over in my head as if to erase all that happened afterwards.

spring cleaning in the form of taking all the poetry I wrote about you,
and scrambling them up to mean something entirely different.

spring cleaning in the form of endless shampooing,
to rid the touch of your hands from my hair.

spring cleaning in the form of disposing all memories made in winter.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved

For five years you were the weight on my shoulders,
the blindfold over my eyes, and the holder of my heart.
Today you are nothing -we are strangers.
Do you ever think about me?

Sometimes I feel like it never happened,
You and I feel like a distant dream.
I don't think I ever truly knew you.
I can't even imagine a time with you anymore;
it all seems like a figment of my imagination.

The day we ran all the way to the restaurant in the pouring rain,
just to find out they were closed.
The day I leaned on your shoulder,
and we fogged up your father's car windows.
The day you held me for the first time.
It all seems like some faint memory of an old movie.

Remember the story of the bird we created?
How we spoke vicariously through the innocent bird
hiding under the tree to shelter itself from the storm?
I don't quite remember anything
except it was significant at one point.

I used to remember it so vividly.
Our memories are fading.
Does that scare you?
I'm not sure how I feel about it.

This may be a different story,
but I feel like I was a bird,
and you were a birdhouse with the door locked,
I'm glad I eventually found the strength to fly away.

Do you ever run your fingers over the scratches I left,
or have you refurnished over them?

So why do I tell you I miss you,
when I feel nothing at all?
And why does it hurt
when you don't respond?

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

I remember the first time I saw you,
you were on the front left side of the gym
walking to the sign in table,
I knew you'd be important somehow.

I remember the first time we talked,
we were on the bleachers on the back right side of the gym,
you sat in front of me talking to your friend, my friend,
I knew I wanted you.

I remember when you first started sitting with us,
we sat in the painted-floor circle in the middle of the gym
It took some time before I worked up the nerve to say
"Oh hey, I have that free too! I'm usually in the cafeteria."

I remember the first time you spent a free with us,
front half of the cafeteria, middle row, back table
you taught me how to unlock a password locked phone.
I remember your colourful shirt with black sleeves, you wore it often,
I remember hoping you'd be there every free after that,
and you came a lot after that.
I think we were the reason for the vending machine shortage,
we probably bought all of the chocolate chip cookie ice-creams.

I remember the first time talking about you,
and I remember the first time being told "he's not a good idea."
I remember the first time being told "you like him, don't you?"
and I remember the first time you invited us to your house
we didn't go because I was scared

I remember the first time I got your number,
and I remember trying to contain my excitement.
I remember walking all the way home to get my long-board
because you said you would skate with me
you haven't seen your skateboard in years but you decided to leave that little detail out and pretend you were going to look for it

I remember the first time we hung out alone,
I remember the park, I remember the swings.
I remember returning there months later
and laying on the grass looking at the light blue sky.

I remember looking at the dark blue sky,
and the starry night on the high-school field just months later.
You held my hand for the first time that night.
I was locked out of my house that night.
You walked me home that night.

When I got home you walked off singing 'Rude'
and I remember thinking "I am so *******."

I remember the first time you kissed me,
it was on my forehead.
I remember the first time I kissed you,
and your shocked reaction.
I remember you falling asleep,
and the twitching of your jaw,
and they way you pulled me closer.
I remember laying on the hammock with you
watching the day turn to night.

I remember the first time I went to kiss you on the lips,
and I remember you taking out a cigarette
and crossing to the window.

"I'm not as stupid as you may think"

I remember you leaving,
I remember getting hurt,
I remember falling apart.

I remember your explanation,
and I remember kicking myself for understanding.
I remember you saying you're not ready.

I remember when you decided you were ready,
I remember the first time you kissed me on the lips,
(waiting for almost a year was about to **** me)
and I remember thinking for the first time in years,
'i might get hurt. but that's alright. that's alright.'

Two months short of a year ago I met you,
and I don't remember the feeling I got the first time I saw you,
because you can't remember what never disappeared.

you're important, somehow.
i knew i wanted you.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)