he has eyes of grey marble,
and skin white like porcelain.
his hair is a sandy blonde,
soft and messy like ocean waves.

his lips are pink jellyfish,
i tell myself to stay away,
but i continue to get closer,
i continue to admire,
i know i will be stung.

i'm swimming in his waves,
but i keep crashing on the shore
one day i will be washed away

i only hope that i will be admired like sea-glass
instead of the just a broken-up seashell
when he the waves decide not to pick me up from shore anymore.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved

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)