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annmarie Dec 2013
I just got off the phone with you,
and I'd have to admit
that hearing the smile in your "hello"
was one of the best parts of my day.
And laughing with you, and
absorbing some of your carefree relief
took some of my own stress
off my shoulders.
And tomorrow I'll probably make jokes
about being in love with a college boy,
but also it is a little bittersweet—
because over the course of just a day
the fact that you're leaving in a few months
suddenly became very, very real.
But St. Louis isn't that far away,
and 320 miles could have been a lot more,
and even though I'd rather say it in person,
I won't get tired
of that same smile in your voice
when you pick up the phone—
and though it's better to say face-to-face,
the sincerity in every one of my I love you's
won't be fading with the distance.
[I don't want to lose you yet.]
601 · Nov 2013
Twelve-Step Program
annmarie Nov 2013
I've never really felt like doing
anything like drugs or alcohol.
But being around you makes me
understand
why people love the feeling.

But they aren't as lucky as I am,
cause you can cause me to
forget
absolutely
everything
and make me dizzy
just by being next to me.

(Honestly, just thinking about you
makes my stomach do backflips.)

On the other hand, they're luckier.
Cause I've tried time and time again
to get rid of this addiction,
and I can't bring myself to do it,
and there isn't a Twelve-Step Program
to quit you.
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...
593 · Dec 2013
Marionette
annmarie Dec 2013
I think the worst part is
being totally helpless,
and having to sit here
and wait patiently
like a good girl
while other people
get to decide for me
wether or not
it is acceptable
for me to love him.

As if they get to choose
how I feel
and how I get to act
on those feelings.
It's like they see themselves
as puppeteers
that can pull whichever strings they want
and demand me to follow suit,
without saying a single word
of any kind of protest at all.

And once upon a time,
I may have even danced for them,
but my cheeks have gotten tired
from painting on forced smiles,
and my heart is wearing thin
from all the tug-of-wars
between their limits
and my own freedom.

So I think that it's time
for this puppet show to end.
And I'm sorry,
but these strings are being cut–
so if there's an encore,
it'll finally be up to me.
587 · Nov 2013
And Thensome
annmarie Nov 2013
I don't think I've ever mentioned to you
just how much.

If you collected all the sand
from every beach on earth,
(including the one you took me to
the day we felt particularly adventurous,)
and weighed every ounce of it,
you might have measured some
of how heavily my heart pounds around you.

And if you gathered all the stars
that dance across the Milky Way,
and counted them up, one by one,
you'd have a fraction of the number
of times you've made my heart
stop completely, in awe of you.

And if you walked through every butterfly exhibit
of every science museum and zoo on the planet,
and allowed each and every one of them
to flutter their wings against your skin,
you could maybe get an idea
of the feeling in my stomach every time I see you.

And if you found every book ever written—
every poem, every letter, every essay—
that tried to describe what this feels like,
and you leafed through every page, taking in
every single cliché and thought in existence on the topic,
you might know some of the words that go through my head
every time that you get closer to me.

That's how much.
For Plorsch, and for Slavindia, and to Jaycup.
572 · Dec 2013
Why I Hate the 1-10 Scale
annmarie Dec 2013
But I can't understand
why the hell
people actually believe
that a number one-through-ten
could actually ever
be an accurate representation
of who a person is.
As if a number,
barely two digits at its best,
could ever actually capture
what makes up a person—
their passion in life, their favorite art piece,
their tears at 2:56 AM (and what caused them,)
their hopes, the way they like to wear their hair,
or how they treat the people
who can do nothing for them.
Not even a hundred digits could summarize that.
So, sorry if you thought you were being nice—
but I'm not an "8."
I'm not anything;
don't think for a second
that you can confine me
to a ******* number
and just write it off
like everything I am can fit
into something as simple as that.
571 · Jan 2014
c'est la vie
annmarie Jan 2014
my perfume is nice,
but I must admit
that I like it a lot more
when the scent that clings
to my collarbones
and my favorite sweater
is the same one
I would find
on the pillows in your room,
or better yet,
when I'm wrapped in your arms.
563 · Dec 2013
Exhale
annmarie Dec 2013
And I'm here tonight
(thousands of miles away from you)
trying again and again
to relive the moment
when you told me you still loved me,
wanting to view it in the kind of way
that could spark inspiration
on how exactly
I could take that moment
and find the right words
to describe it in a poem.

I think the reason
that I still can't figure it out
is because the conversation in itself
was already more amazing
than any of my poems could ever be.

The past few days with you
have been more beautiful
than any combination of words
could ever accurately describe,
starting with the moment you kissed me
and it felt like finally letting go
of the breath I've been holding in for months.

Every moment since then,
I've felt every bit as free,
leading up to last night
when I told you I still loved you, too.
annmarie Dec 2013
He asked her that night
it it all was okay,
and with a smile
all she said was "of course!"
The part she didn't say, though,
was that the reason she seemed off
had to do with him.
With her head on his chest,
and her breathing keeping time
with the rise and fall
of his heart against her cheek,
with his fingers in her hair
and his lips pressed to her forehead,
she wondered if letting him know
could do them any harm.
But she thought about his carefulness
and how he felt on falling,
breathed him in again,
and closed her eyes.
She thought to herself
that it could wait,
at least for a little while.
From when I didn't know how to tell you I loved you.
550 · Jan 2014
Promises and Typos
annmarie Jan 2014
I don't need you
to promise me
you're never going to
leave.
But what I want
is a promise
that while you're here,
you'll love me
for everything
that makes you want to stay,
but also everything
that doesn't.
Cause what I've discovered
is that you cannot possibly
really love someone
unless you've fallen in love
with all their broken pieces
in addition to
the parts of them
that haven't yet
lost their sparkle.
So the next time you find yourself
reaching for my hand,
know that I don't need you
to promise me
you're never going to let go.
All I want from you
is to know
that when you take my hand,
you're also taking my heart,
which really isn't always
as strong as it wishes it could be for you.
But what it is
is the kind of heart
who wants to see your pages opened
and read you word for word,
because it's fallen in love
with all of your phrases
that could be passed for poetry,
and also all the parts of you
that you might consider typos,
but I consider incredible.
542 · Dec 2013
You Are, But You Are Also
annmarie Dec 2013
You are
a clap of thunder
in the midst of a summer storm,
exciting and full of life,
but you are also
the next day,
when the sun is shining
and there isn't a single cloud in the sky.

You are
restlessness, impatience,
and the feeling that
there is too much else
that's keeping both of us away,
but you are also
contentment,
and knowing that
even if I don't get all of you right now,
there isn't any rush,
and the hope that even though
forever is past the horizon,
it's still there waiting for us
...someday.

You are*
my favorite book,
the one I know by heart
and can recite all
your greatest quotes,
but you are also
a book I've never read before,
that I can't wait to learn more about
with each new chapter.

You are
a lot of things
that are completely new to me
and I'm both curious
and a little apprehensive,
but you are also
a lot of things
that make me feel like
I've known you my whole life
and want to know you forever.
annmarie Jan 2014
I was fully prepared
to write a poem
about you leaving
because my mistakes
were too big this time.

What I was not prepared for
was for you to pull me in
and not let go—
both figuratively and literally.

I wasn't prepared
to hear you say you loved me.

And I know that you're probably
still a little upset with me,
but I promise I can find a way
to make it up to you,
cause I can't think
if anybody else
who's more worth it
than you.

(And also, I think,
I need to say thanks,
cause I'm going to bed smiling
instead of in tears,
and writing this poem
is a whole lot nicer
than the one I was prepared to write.)
I love you I love you I love you
510 · Dec 2013
Most
annmarie Dec 2013
Spending time with you
is a little bit like
making hot chocolate
at the end of a freezing cold day
and grabbing my favorite book off the shelf.
It's familiar and it's comfortable
and even though it gets more predictable
with each new chapter,
I only ever love it more and more.

You're like the ending scene
of my favorite movie—
I already know the music by heart
but it never makes me love the harmony any less.

(And we're a bit like those harmonies, too
We're different completely
but when we're together
we bring out the best in each other
and make it even better.)

And nothing feels more natural
than lacing my fingers between yours
and letting each other sense
our pulses quickening in unison.
Nothing feels better
than letting your presence be enough
and not needing anything else
but each other in the moment,
being just us, without having to
fit into anyone else's molds.

That's when I love you most—
when you let down your walls
and fit your own mold
instead of the one
everybody around you has shaped.

That's when I love you most.
510 · Nov 2013
The First of Many
annmarie Nov 2013
One.* We started as complete strangers, meeting for the first time. I hadn't met an actual complete stranger for the first time in months.
Two. That night, I told you a story and you listened. A story about not being able to use the school computers because they were all taken. It was the stupidest story I had ever told. You listened anyway.
Three. Nobody ever listens to me anymore.
Four. I'm not done meeting you yet and I love that. We don't know much about each other, but we piece together a little more of the puzzle every day.
Five. My friends adore you this time. I can spend my Friday nights with both you and them. I don't need to choose.
Six. You call me kiddo, just like he did, but yours is different. He was condescending. You treat me like I'm worth just as much as you.
Seven. I'm not worth just as much as you. You're a lot better than me.
Eight. You're unbelievably sweet, even to the girl that nobody else talks to. If they aren't ignoring her, they're mocking her. Even I ignored her.
Nine. I don't have to try for you. Nothing is forced, nothing is overthought, nothing is poised or staged or planned. I could tell you anything in the world and not be worried about how you'd react.
Ten. I've known you for a month. It feels like my whole life.
Eleven.
I don't know how to end this poem, because the list could go on forever. I think I'll stop it here, but with an ellipsis…
478 · Sep 2013
Turquiose and Amber
annmarie Sep 2013
I have pretty eyes, I'm told,
but I didn't ever believe it
until I was hearing it from you.

I needed braces for four years,
but you say you've never been
more in love with someone's smile.

I stopped eating lunch every day,
but started to again
when you told me my body was perfect.

I've always hated my lips,
but have never felt happier
than when they were pressed to yours.

And I find it ironic (and amazing)
that everywhere I didn't feel beautiful
was beautiful to you.

(But I just wish I could tell you
that I feel the very same way about
the parts of you you want to change.)
443 · Aug 2013
Nicholas
annmarie Aug 2013
I knew a boy once
who inhaled books
like he inhaled the air,
whose blue eyes were always full of laughter
and who was always willing
to give a little bit up
to make someone else smile.

I watched him once
as we were talking
and took note of the way
that his smile brightened
every time I met his eyes
and never seemed
to get bored of what I had to say.

The boy I knew once
put his books on the shelf
as other things filled him up,
and his blue eyes grew a little crueler
because he was always willing
to give a lot of his life up
to make those he wanted to be like approve.

I watched him once
as I was talking
and took note of the way
that his smile wasn't as real
and he wouldn't meet my eyes
and sort of seemed
to be pulling away.

I saw that boy once
walking with a new crowd
with a different rhythm now,
his blue eyes darting around cautiously
and never willing
to give any of himself away
in case they'd hurt him too.

I watched him then
as he was talking
and took note of the fact
that his smile had gone
and he hadn't seen me watching
because he had always been
centered around getting to here.
433 · Nov 2013
Daily
annmarie Nov 2013
It's weird, but it almost feels as if
I'm still waiting
for things that happened
yesterday.
Because even though
I know I did them,
it's still a bit like
they never even happened.

(Because girls like me
don't kiss boys like you
on a daily basis—
let alone do boys like you
initiate it.)

And it almost still feels like
I'm caught in that dream, like
my world isn't shaking
in the same way my hands were,
and that you hadn't
made it so effortless
that I could relax right away,
and that you didn't taste
exactly like the weather did last night—
cool and exciting and a little bit
like something amazing
had just begun.

(Because boys like you
don't kiss girls like me
on a daily basis.
But I think I can get used to it.)
For India
431 · Dec 2013
Seven, Two, Infinity
annmarie Dec 2013
I never thought
that seven days
was a long time to have to wait
for anything—
until I had to
wait patiently here
and count down the seconds
until I got to see you again.

And I never thought
that seven days
was enough time
to fall for someone—
but it only took two
for me to realize
that your everything
was something I felt like
I needed more of.

*(And I have no idea
how many days
it takes for someone like me
to fall in love with someone like you—
but at the rate things are going,
it's the kind of thing
I really hope I get to do
someday soon.)
429 · Oct 2013
First Drafts
annmarie Oct 2013
Sometimes I try
to write about you
and I want to add
a line, something like
"and this is the last poem
I'll ever write for you."

But I know I can't ever do that.
You and I both know
I'd never be able
to truthfully say that.
Because if I'm being honest,
I'll always be writing about you.
I'll always be writing to you.
Your first love is the poem
you never ever stop writing.
I'll always be revising that poem,
always adding verses;
and of course it can never be perfect,
but in a way that's why it's beautiful.

So that's what you are to me—
the poem I'll always be writing,
revising,
rearranging,
living.
It'll always start with and come down to you.
The poem I'll carry around with me
in the little notebook I call my heart,
with scribbles in the margins
and notes to myself between stanzas.
You're the poem I'm going to reference
in every single other thing I write.
You're the crumpled piece of paper
pulled out of the back pocket of my memories
whenever anyone asks about the first time.
You're the ink in my pen
as it hits the paper
and you're every word I write with that ink.

And as far as first drafts go…
I'm really happy with what you gave me to work with.
423 · Sep 2013
Today
annmarie Sep 2013
Today I feel lonely.
And it isn't the kind of lonely
like when all your friends leave for class
and you have a fee period.
It's that kind of lonely
that you never notice
until all your friends aren't around
and only your thoughts
are there for you to listen to.

Today I feel lonely.
I hadn't felt it until now,
but it's been there all day.
The kind of lonely
you get when you feel like
none of them care, not really,
and without you nothing would change
and there's no possible way
that anyone will ever love you.

Today I feel lonely.
And I wish I didn't,
but I can't help it much.
It's the kind of lonely
where the tears pool up
behind your eyes all day,
but nobody stops to notice
the glistening you're holding back.

Today I feel lonely.
And I don't know why,
but I hope tomorrow is better.
412 · Dec 2013
Both My Homes
annmarie Dec 2013
I like thinking about
     how city traffic, in a way,
          echoes the ocean.
                    (But it adds its own separate rhythms.)
           Though the swells are both never-ending,
           the energy of both is never constant.
  The city is never the same place twice.
   The same wave cannot crash again.
And never
                have either
                                 gone back.
annmarie Sep 2013
I saw you a few minutes ago
and you were laughing (and I had to laugh too)
but you didn't really look at me at all
yet it was way too hard to not look at you
and I have no idea how to explain
exactly how that moment felt
but I thought about your smile again
(and I had to smile too)
but then really fast I stopped
because the you that was just smiling
in the lobby of the building where we first kissed
was you exactly how you were six months ago
but somehow I couldn't see myself in your life anymore
and it wasn't like before
when I knew of course that I wasn't in your life anymore
but it was like I knew I wasn't
and I couldn't even see how it made sense
that I ever had been at all
and then I felt like crying
and I'm not even sure why
but I picked everything up
and I left right away
and now I'm upstairs
in the middle of the chair where we first kissed
and nothing feels the same
but I don't know how it's different
because I don't remember how it felt before
and now you're really quickly fading
from the person I thought was perfect
and couldn't believe was mine
(and then couldn't believe I had lost)
to another senior boy
who does his homework
in the lobby of the building where I go too
who barely even knows who I am
and wouldn't think twice
if he didn't say a word to me all year
and I don't want you to be that
(as in I need you to not be that)
but I don't know how to tell you
because it's already too late
and my thoughts aren't organizing themselves well
(as in this is probably my worst poem ever)
but I'm so shaken up
just by sitting near you
as you were laughing
and I don't know what's happening
but I hate what it's doing to me
and really all I want
is to have whatever I'm missing back
but I don't even remember what it was anymore.
Ahhh I'm really so sorry that this poem is so terrible but I'm having a really strange emotional overload like I see my ex boyfriend like seven million times a day but this time was really weird and I don't have any idea what just happened with my head but it was weird and I think I'm freaking out so much cause I think I actually just finally got over him and I don't know how to handle it and I can't even think straight and I'm not sure what's going on but it sort of hurts and it's sort of relieving and I just really don't know I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry
400 · Nov 2013
11:11
annmarie Nov 2013
There are a lot of things
that I could wish for,
but tonight the only thing on my mind
is you.
You've reduced me to cliches and I don't even care.
395 · Aug 2013
Falling
annmarie Aug 2013
if a tree falls
in the middle of the forest
and there isn't anybody around
to hear the crash,
it still makes a sound.

but

if i fall
surrounded by crowds of people
and give out hundreds of chances
to hear the sound
and possibly even stop me
from falling in the first place,
i am still muted
by the selective hearing
of those who like to claim they care.
389 · Nov 2013
The Perfect Match
annmarie Nov 2013
Everything I hoped for
in what tonight would be
wasn't nearly as good as
everything it was.

It's been a long time,
as in since ever,
since I've been comfortable
around a person I've only just met.

But even if it's only been a week
of missing you and waiting
to be able to see you again,
it almost feels as if
I've spent my entire life
missing you and waiting
to see you again.

Because in your arms it felt
exactly how it does
after trying several different pieces
to see if they fit just right
into the square of the puzzle,
to finally find
the perfect match
that simply clicks
perfectly into place
and makes things more beautiful
than one piece alone could ever manage.
For Sophia
371 · Sep 2013
Boys
annmarie Sep 2013
sometimes
I think
that the nice ones
can be even more
dangerous
than the
bad boys.
371 · Nov 2013
Thanksgiving Break
annmarie Nov 2013
Weird to think we went all summer
not speaking to each other once,
because now that you're back in my life
even going just one day
without hearing your voice
or reading a message from you
seems pretty close to absolutely
impossible.
finish your college applications and turn your phone back on, I miss you. :(
351 · Oct 2013
Hmm
annmarie Oct 2013
Hmm
It might be tough,
but I don't mind.

Cause I'm all yours
if you're all mine.
I felt like being cliche idk it's late
348 · Oct 2013
To No One in Particular,
annmarie Oct 2013
"I've never been in love," you said,
one night when I shouldn't
have been talking to you at all.

                 "Yeah, I don't think I have either"
                           was all I could think to say.

  But under the stars
in the place we called ours
        there wasn't anywhere else
             I'd ever have wanted to be.

And I know my pulse quickened
        because I could feel it moving
                   faster
   on the tips of my fingers
        where my hand met yours.

When you looked me in the eyes that night,
                    I hope you could tell
                    I was lying.
285 · Sep 2013
Too Much
annmarie Sep 2013
Too much
of a good thing
is bad,

but too much
of something amazing
destroys you.

— The End —