I COULD HAVE LOVED YOU
But I have all my love to a boy
Who couldn’t remember my middle name
Or that I didn’t like coffee
Who didn’t want me.
I should’ve loved you
When you played me your favorite song
(I think of you now as I sing along)
When you made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe
And you made it feel like the world was just you and me.
I should’ve loved you and spared the pain,
But hell it all just ends the same

My friend pressed his feet against me as slept today.
I liked the gentle pressure.
I watched him sleep and was glad to see him breathing.

When we parted in the stairwell he kissed my cheek.
I liked the gentle pressure.
It was warm and soft and full of him.
He lingered lightly and he knew I needed to feel him breathing.

He's only one who makes me laugh as hard as I used to.
So hard my stomach aches and I can’t breathe.
Sometimes I need to not feel like I’m breathing,
To be reminded that I am

He once told me that repetition decreases the value of a statement.
But he told me he loved me,
Over and over and over.

When his name starts to taste like your blood,
Stop forcing your voice to form it
And don’t you dare push it through your lips.
When his eyes start to feel like knives,
And making contact with them feels like blades in your back,
Keep your head down when he walks past.
When his skin starts feeling like sandpaper,
And you’re already smooth,
Pull your sleeves over your hands and pull away.
When his voice starts to sound like emergency siren,
Cover your ears,
And walk away from the disaster.

Last night I dreamt you loved me,
You whispered it,
Warm, and soft, and comfortable.
They say,
When you dream of someone,
They fell asleep thinking of you.
I hope that’s true.
I’d love to mean something to you.
(Say, did you dream of me too?)

We lay facing each other,
His bloodshot blue eyes watching mine.
I think neither of us wanted to be alone,
Neither of us wanted to be cold.
Neither of us said anything.
There was no movement except that of our beating hearts,
And that was enough to remind us that someone else is alive,
Until his hand finds mine,
And it’s almost better than what the both of us lost.

My brother is as much Apollo as I am Artemis,
The days are his domain, and he leaves the nights to me.
He traps sunlight in his hair, and I keep stars safe in my eyes.
The sun sets and he begins to yawn,
The moon rises and I feel alive.

We coexist as the sun and the moon,
Only crossing each other’s paths at dawn and dusk.
We pass each other in the doorway,
One whisking in,
Another flickering out.

Not often, but sometimes,
You can catch me in his sky,
Faintly but surely watching him shine.
Sometimes he rises early in mine,
Reminding me that I must come home.

He strums his lyre,
And I hunt my prey,
I’m the clearest of nights,
He’s the brightest of days.

All I can taste is blood.
I don’t know if it’s mine, or yours, or even hers.
I do know that my morning tea has not yet washed away the taste of your lips.
No, no it must not be yours.

You lost yours wings, and fell,
As I gained mine and began to ascend.
You passed me on your way down
and your eyes caught me,
Pulling me down with you.
I saw the pain in your eyes as you saw your wings were gone,
So I took a knife to mine,
Today is not the day I die.

We have matching scars now,
And I kiss your shoulder blades whenever they are exposed to me.
You’ve never done the same to me,
But I don’t mind.
You see yours as a curse,
And sure,
Mine are a burden,
But let it be known,
I will do almost anything for you.
I won’t die for you,
But I’ll live for you.

I don’t know if you’ve ever held hands with a boy.
If you have,
Maybe you’ve noticed how his hands are rougher than your own.
They show the scars of life,
So contrasted to my own,
Which don’t even crack in the winter.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had a boy tell you he loves you.
He might blush and look away.
You might blush and pretend he didn’t say it.
It doesn’t matter.
Neither of us mentioned it,
Even years later.

I don't know what hurts more.
The fact that I let go,
Or the fact that you didn't have to.

He's holding your hand,
But he loves her,
Not you.
He's kissing your lips,
But he's thinking of her,
Not you.
He's comforting you as you cry,
He wishes it were her,
Not you.
He's laughing with you,
Cause you're here,
She's not.
You convince yourself that that's enough to make him
Love you,
Not her.
But he doesn't.
You're not her.

I am a poet,
But you are not a poem.
Still,
I find the Caribbean ocean in your eyes,
I find the constellations in the freckles and blemishes on your skin,
Beneath the dark void of your hair,
And of all the scars on your skin,
That you find ugly,
Are some of your most endearing features
That so few know of.
Your voice has become my favorite song,
And that says a lot.
I am a poet,
and although you are not poetry,
You mean the world and more to me.

Why do you have to be you?
Why do I have to be me?
Why do I have to think what I do?
My friend’s all know I’m in to deep
I’ve beat us all black and blue,
Wilder than the raging sea
I’m a ****** person but so are you.

Hello my old friend,
It’s been a while hasn’t it?
I’ve never been too far away,
oh my dear,
I’ve always been here.
Unspoken traditions
are coming apart at the seams,
And you are you,
And I am me,
And there’s no one else that we could be,
So, my dearest, oldest friend,
Remember,
I’ll be here till the end.

You came crying at my door,
And I sat with you on the steps,
You rested your head on my shoulder,
And I began the story,
Of the person who saved me,
With a “Remember when?”
And you smiled softly,And when I finished the story,
You looked at me,
Softly,
(A expression that didn’t often grace your face,)
And wiped your tears,
And said, “Remember who?”
I remembered you are gone
And that this is an empty, lonely song.

I have nothing to offer you,
I’m just a pyromaniac,
An empty girl,
Trying to find my way back,
After I burned my hands
On the matches I light in the bathroom,
Before I drop them in the sink,
Letting the water discourage the flames.
(Only the burns remain.)

You eat a strawberry,
Hoping to confuse the blood in your mouth,
But it won’t.

The bullet holes
Provide windows in your chest,
And I can see the trees through you.

Your wings are folded
Beneath your coat,
Broken and bent,
And feathers fall when you run.

And your blades draw blood,
My blood,
And you tell me to leave,
But I promised to stay,
Until you can’t taste any more of
The blood,
Or the
Strawberries