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annmarie Feb 2014
You asked me to write
a poem that killed
all the parts of you
that make you love yourself less.
But darling, I don't
know if anyone's told you:
The things that make you
afraid to show yourself
make me love you
all the more.
And you may talk
about how much you hate
the bumps and ridges
splashed across your skin,
but you also talk
about how much you love
the mountains in Colorado.
Do you think that the earth
has ever cared
that it has drier parts
or areas with a little more texture?
Do you think that Nature
ever wanted to cover up
the parts of her that weren't perfectly smooth?
If the water stayed still,
and never rose or fell
the oceans wouldnt be quite so breathtaking
because waves would never crash.
And you might think you're covered in tsunamis,
disaster zones left in the debris of your disease,
but don't ever tell me
that a home in that aftermath
isn't still a home.
Because with or without the water damage,
the part that makes it important
is the things on the inside—
and no, I'm not referring
to things in a home anymore.
Now I mean your heart,
now I mean your passions and your past
and ever single word
written in the story of you.
So darling, you might tell me
that you hate the bumps on your skin,
but there is something amazing
spelled out in Braille
written on just the outside cover
of one of the greatest stories I will ever know.
The thing about Braille like yours is that
it can open the eyes of a blind man
without even needing any magic.
And the thing about book covers is
that you'll never really know
how much you love a book
based on the words on the outsides of it.
But darling.
I need you know know
I've read you cover to cover
and I absolutely think
your story is one of the most beautiful ones I know.
With or without the tsunamis or Braille.
For Sophia
annmarie Feb 2014
I needed to know
if I had any power,
so I blocked off my heart
and found the fastest way into yours.
I got you to let me in,
and let you think my laughter
was about having you back
instead of about what it was.

It was about watching you care
when I knew that I didn't.

I thought I was having fun
playing with your heart
in the exact same ways
that you had played with mine.

I thought I wanted
to make you hurt
cause you hurt me.

But then it worked.

I took it too far
because I still didn't think you cared
and I told you I felt nothing
as you were about to tell me you loved me.
And you sat back and closed your eyes
and that was when I knew:
you didn't mind that I didn't feel the same.
You didn't feel the same either.

But last night you almost kissed me,
until you stopped and pushed me away again.
And I never could have expected
what you told me next.

But then I got what I wanted,
and I realized how much you hurt,
and everything in me shattered
hearing your voice break.

And there have been far too many apologies
so I'm not sure if this one will even mean anything to you
but I can't say sorry enough
for wanting to hurt you
when you're the one who matters the most to me.
I'm so sorry I'm so so sorry I don't even know what to say anymore I'm so sorry
annmarie Feb 2014
Stars at night
are always changing
and always rotating
and always moving
and this crazy little planet
that we've named Earth
is a cosmic speck of dust
that somehow is perfect
for sustaining our lives.

And what's even crazier
is that on that speck,
all of us are more than just survivors—
we found beauty and passion
and love, in a lot of different ways.
And then we noticed those stars
millions of lightyears away
and decided to find art in those, too.

And in our little corner
of this great big universe,
people are connecting the dots
and creating their own constellations
over cups of coffee and shared laughter
and even a few tears sometimes.
So that's what we've done,
we made our own sky pictures
a lot closer to our hearts and minds.

And the three of us,
we drew Orion.

In all the motion
and the exploding supernovas
and everything that happens
around us,
we're the three things
that have always stayed
and will always stay
perfectly aligned
and in sync with each other
through everything that happens.

And it doesn't matter at all
what else tries to get between us,
cause we're the only three
that will always be constant
and by each others' sides forever
no matter how many other stars
explode around us.
To India and Sophia
annmarie Feb 2014
I don't know a lot of things--
like how to pass a math class
or how to lie to people
or how not to talk
when it's in my best interests
to keep my mouth shut.

And not knowing those things
might be okay,
but what isn't okay
is hiding things from you
and not being honest
with anyone, not even myself.

What wasn't okay
was not letting you know
exactly how I felt
when I felt it.

What wasn't okay
was how stupid I was
to think the way I thought.

What wasn't okay
was how ****** I am
because you knew something was wrong
so you went out of your way
to make it better
and I didn't deserve it,
not for a second,
but you still did it
and I had no idea
that you had so much on your mind
because of one stupid thing
that I did in one stupid moment.

And I'm never going to be able
to apologize enough
for all the things
that I don't know about,
but if you still want to
try to fix us,
I still want to try to fix us.

Cause I think we could be okay this time.
I don't know what came over me yesterday. I love you. I love you more than the ocean loves the shoreline and the moon loves the sun and the birds love the trees, and I love you more than any stupid metaphor that any cliche poet has ever written (especially the ones I just mentioned) and I love you more than I've ever loved anyone and I'm sorry and I'm sorry and I'm sorry...
annmarie Feb 2014
The weatherman told us
today would be awful
but I don't think he knows
what he was talking about.
A "polar vortex"
is really nothing
that we can't handle,
and not being able to drive
isn't really much
to complain about.

I tried to hate the snow
for keeping you from getting here--
but when I looked outside to glare at it
it danced on the wind past the library window,
careless and free and absolutely beautiful.
And though of course I miss you
and wish the chair across from me
didn't have to be empty,
it's difficult to focus
on the things I don't have here with me
when I'm next to the heater in a leather chair,
laptop in front of me and earbuds in.

And it's not quite as fun
to be here alone,
but I do have to admit
I'll get a lot more work done.
So promises of "next time"
will have to be enough,
at least for the time being,
and for now I guess
what we'll have to do
is both look out the window
and take in the expanse of whiteness
for something incredible
instead of
the burden the weatherman
told us it would be.
Though Cecil Baldwin's voice is no match for yours, and an overheated computer can't warm my hands as well as your own, I really can't complain about today when so much about it is flawless.
annmarie Jan 2014
Whatever you do,
don't ever ever ever
throw out a piece of paper.
One day you could
be cleaning out your room
and discover a sheet
covered in scribbles
and notes in the margins
and raw thoughts
that might even seem to come
from another you entirely.
But whatever the page says,
you'll see yourself in it
and be taken back to those feelings--
if they're good, they'll remind you
of times you felt happiest;
if they're bad,
you'll be able to look at them
with wisdom you didn't have then.

The eraser is not your friend.
It tricks you into thinking
that words you have dared
to get out on paper
might not have been good enough.
A really cool thing
about things you write
is that it isn't like real life:
any ending you don't like,
any aspect that isn't
exactly completely perfect right away
(and believe me,
not many aspects will be)
can always be returned to and rewritten
any time you want to change it.
But write your first drafts in pen,
because any thought you have
is going to be beautiful
because it is your own.

And finally, if you ever do need
to get rid of a piece of paper,
recycle it.
Cause the beautiful part
about recycling
is that it takes something
that you just werent able to use
and turns it into
something that could be
meaningful and beautiful
to somebody else.
annmarie Jan 2014
I have a lot of favorite places
that are too far away
from where I am right now.

I can't walk out the front door
and be at the beach,
I can't put on my sneakers
and jog to Times Square,
and I can't pick up my camera
to go explore the mountains.
(I'm not even close enough to Chicago
to go there any time I want.)

But in this town
we've found a way
to take the least exciting places
and make them extraordinary.

I've never felt safer
on a high school campus
than when I'm in the corner
of the theatre building's upper level
where the first of many kisses happened.
You say your car is ******,
but there are few places I'd rather be
than the passenger seat with my hand in yours.
And the streets of my neighborhood
have been paved with our laughter
as we've tried to find adventure
(and avoid ticks.)

So maybe my world isn't
full of life and stories
like some of my favorite places,
but because of you,
it's pretty amazing anyway.
I don't actually jog ever but still.
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