the words in my mouth
feel like a sinking ship.

“I love you” can be found
in the wreckage
at the bottom of the ocean

I could try to swim to it.
but I am not fond of the idea
of drowning.

there was something surreal
about the way he looked in the moonlight:
he was stained with shadows
and painted with smoke clouds
and his arm around my waist felt like an anchor.
every breath that ghosted my neck
was coated in warmth
and our hands found each other in the darkness
with perfect ease.
there was something surreal
about the way he looked at me:
like I was meant to be his.

trapped in the greyscale world of the night
where there is no color and there is no light
where heavy, tired thoughts will thrive
and bittersweet memories come alive

I’ve waited all my life to find
that someone who could stand my pride
my stubbornness, my independent ways
that aren’t exactly patient

I found you

in the driver’s seat of a beat-up jeep
and down the pier with both bare feet
your smile was enough to turn
my fondness into something worse

I knew you

you could take my hand and hold me tight
and I‘d walk with you through the night
no words were needed to describe
the way I felt by your side

I loved you

I am made of untapped potential and stubborn resolve:
an inferno rages underneath my skin and the ocean courses through my veins.
I hold an unlit match in one hand
and a water hose in the other.
I could set it all on fire;
make it all come crashing down.
or, I could drown the rest of the earth.
perhaps I'm the one to start the flame,
and the one to put it out,
but the world doesn't know that yet.

I dreamt of you in technicolor
a vivid sunset of fleeting touches and flashes of smiles
I walked through hope
and didn’t stop to wonder why everything was so bright
and nothing felt real
but it didn’t take long for the color to fade

I’m fighting
and I’m losing
and I’m falling apart at the seams
of which I’ve sewn myself
and I am so tired.
I’m tired of fighting.
there is a vice closed around my chest
because I don’t have the strength to pry it apart anymore
like I used to.

black for the night at the edge of the earth
silver as the light of each day's rebirth
white in the fog of our clouded minds
pink like the loves who left us behind
blue for the calm hiding before the storm
red for the fury in which we can transform
grey for the knowledge best untold
gold in the hopes and the dreams we hold
green in the envy and promises untrue
violet like the fear of losing you

your heartbeat is a waltz
your broken voice a melody
your loyalty’s a fault yet
your valor is your legacy

when did I stop being afraid of the dark?
was it when I got older
and grew out of the childish fears
of horrible beasts and unseen ghosts?
was it when I decided that
I could take on the zombies and witches by myself?
or was it when I realized
that the only monsters
in this world
look and sound
like me?

I thought of you when you were gone,
and when the day became the dawn,
I followed you from hazy dreams
and into mornings in-betweens.

I swallowed pride and guilt and rage
and then I turned another page.
I closed that chapter of our lives
and said my one of few goodbyes.

I always thought that I was made up of storm clouds and pouring rain:
lightning strikes and rumbling thunder.
I'm the kind of weather that isn't subtle;
the kind that either comforts
or brings fear.
some people find the rain soothing
and the lightning awe-inspiring
and some people are shaken by the thunder.

maybe it’s not about saving the universe
or getting the glory.
maybe, at the end of the day,
the only thing that matters
is getting home,
feeling safe in the arms of someone you care about,
and knowing that you don’t have to fight anymore.

they were holding onto each other
as if their centers of gravity
were located somewhere other
than the ground beneath their feet.

there is a reason people don’t live in pristine houses
and don’t have ideal relationships with everyone they meet.
there is a reason for having emotions beyond happiness.
and there is a reason why some questions are asked and answers aren’t given.
sometimes, things are meant to be worn and torn and broken.
the world is not perfect,
and that is good.
if life is going to be worth living,
there must be differences
and disagreements.
anger and sadness and all those things we feel
but would rather not acknowledge
exist for a reason.
people are meant to grow and learn
and change
and have their own opinions.
wishing for everything to be a certain way just because it would be easier
would take away everything that makes it all worth it.

you were like fireworks and thunder in the distance:
some sort of earth-shattering sound that left me breathless and with that tiny rush that made me feel alive.

I want to cover every inch of myself in paint
I want to mask my skin in colors and patterns
and make myself disappear
I want no one else to ever see
the plain white walls
inside of me

when people ask me why I’m not religious,
I tell them stories
of all the people I have ever believed in.
I relive the memories
and the heartbreak
and I explain how each of them
earned my faith.
they were my friends;
they were tangible
and they were real
and they left me behind.
so, what am I supposed to expect
from some god who hides their face?
I've had enough
of people putting on masks
and lying to me through their teeth.
at least I can look them in the eye
when I tell them
that I don't believe in them anymore.

my eyes are searching for you in the crowd.
I can hear, rather than feel, my heart race.
I'm afraid that my thoughts are far too loud
I try to steady my quickening pace.

press one hand to my heart; one to my lips
so hard that I can't distinguish the change
between the soft pulse in my fingertips
and the one hammering in my ribcage

my vision is blurry and unfocused
and my head hung low with longing and dread
I mumble a hello you must have missed
because you stumble right past me instead

love is a tragic kind of beautiful
it's the kind you miss if you're not careful

you are crossed out words and crumpled papers and
you are hands held tight through hallways and under desks

you are black coffee at the break of dawn and disney movie dates in the basement on saturday nights

you are rivers of glass and autumn leaves and mustard colored sneakers and flannels

you are soft music
when you want to lose yourself in lyrics
and drum your fingers to the beat

you are the greying sky after sunset
when the world starts to fall asleep and the moon becomes the brightest light in the darkest sky
you are the moon

you are sleepy smirks and silent laughter:
you are a puzzle I have yet to solve

you are silver wristwatches and sapphires

you are quiet conversations and bright constellations

you are the calm after the storm:
broken glass of different colors
pushed together to form something entirely new

caffeine highs and painted hues
crimson hearts
first I love yous

you were the hope I lost
and the hope I needed
and you were the hope I thought I never deserved to have

I am notebooks stained with coffee and blots of black and blue ink and
I am pages ripped and torn out of frustration

I am friday nights spent watching old movies and sipping hot cocoa from some old mug that caught your eye

I am black eyeliner and ocean waves and
soft grey v-necks and stockings

I am the songs you play
when you want to hear the
melody and not recognize the tune

I am fairy lights at midnight
when the clouds obscure the sight of the stars
I am those stars
and sometimes, I am the clouds

I am dark red nail polish to match dark circles under eyes:
I am mysterious in uninteresting ways

I am dented silver crowns and rubies

I am sweater paws and fatal flaws

I am beautiful chaos:
chipped paint and pulled threads
one tug away from unraveling

broken hearts and waterfalls
rose petals
2 a.m. phone calls

I am the love you gave
and the love you took
and I am the love I found in myself
after you were gone