sometimes getting out of bed feels more like a climbing
and some mornings waking up can be a triathlon of effort
I have completed many

sometimes I am all muscle
sometimes I am all skin
sometimes I am the long lost cousin of regret
sometimes I am the farthest thing from human

some days I am a Saturday
some days I am more Monday
some days I am both
it does not matter which day it actually is
it does matter if I can't remember

I get lost often
in poetry
in the process of writing
in movies
and moments of comfort

I don't think about the future a lot
but occasionally I'll wonder what it would be like to live happily in it
Now and then I'll draw people into mine and imagine how they'd fit

I take things day by day but tomorrow still excites me nonetheless

I was fifteen when I got my nose pierced
sixteen when I switched the stud for a ring
seventeen when I got my driver's license
and at eighteen I finally stopped sleeping with a nightlight

I am terrified of the dark
but I will never admit it

I am terrified of losing things
but I will hold onto my pride like it's my sole source of surviving

I will not always be smiling
know that if I am not, it’s not your fault
know that if I am, it is

it took me years to correctly pronounce ptsd
it took me a few, two exactly
to admit that I have it

know there will be days when the storm is too heavy to fight off alone
the winds too strong to fend off with just these arms
I will not ask for your help
I will think that I don't need it
I will

know that your laugh will never become secondary
your happiness, always a priority
I have loved too much for far too long to not do so consistently

I'm a hopeless romantic
but often times I will just be hopeless
this
is when I will need you most
when the loud of my vocality has turned itself quiet
when I can blame only tired for my weakness
this
is when I will need to be reminded
of that tomorrow that excites me so greatly
tell me
about all the times the stars were told they wouldn't glow bright and center
tell me about all those instances of defiance
tell me about the moments where the sun refused to let the clouds block her bravery
how she still manages to make herself known in the midst of chaos
tell me
is there anything more worth it
than being unabashed in your awareness?
to know that this is what I am
and it is all I have to offer
?

the thing is
I don't have a lot to offer you
only poorly composed sonnets and a good 99% of my affection
the other one percent
I'm saving for myself to have on a rainy day

the thing is
I don't have a lot to give
but I do have words I am willing to tie into stanzas
I will wrap them up and call them gifts
I've got a body,
not perfect but it's mine
and I'd love for you to know it

the thing is
there are a lot of things you should know about me
before you love me
but the truth is
a lot of them you really won't find out
until you do
and that alone
is the best part
about it

I find comfort in the static of the record player humming,
the crackling of vinyl against its holding
your arms tucked tight around the curve of my spine
and waking up to the corners of your lips widening

this is a sunday morning
that I could relive
7 days a week

this is a feeling
I am near terrified of
but in a way that I need to be

see,
I have never been one for writing love poems
and when it comes to writing love
good endings aren't my specialty

I'm not one for spilling vulnerability
to then have to clean up the mess
after it goes without catching

I'm not the best at predicting future
and letting go
is an art form I am still mastering

I have never been one for writing love poems
especially not for those
who don't stick around
long enough to hear them
but for you
I am willing
to take the risk
to set aside hesitation
for the chance of lasting
to sacrifice my fear of heights
for the possibility of a smooth landing

I don't know you well
but I know you enough
to know you're exactly what I want

so I'll talk about your smile
how your dimples have quickly become
my favorite half moon to stare at
or the way you look at me
like a single star
in the middle of a busy Los Angeles sky

being enfolded in your grasp
feels like sun peeking through grey
how lightness makes itself known
even in the midst of rain

I want my skin
to find a home in your palms
and my laugh
an echo in the crook of your neck

for routine
to settle on the map of your body
from collarbone to knuckle to wrist
making a transparent dent in each earlobe
to be missed by my lips
to crave the caress of my hands
when they have other obligations

and I'll hope
that I can waste
as much time with you
as I intend to
although I'm sure
that any time we spent together
would be anything but wasted
I hope
that we can stretch these two nights into two hundred
weaving a weekend into something we can wrap ourselves in

this is me saying a prayer
the only way I know how to

I have never been one for writing love poems
but for you
it is all I want to do
to listen to the silence
and from it
form a symphony
to take this coincidence
and call it fate
to give out all of my honesty
and hope that you stay

It hasn't stopped raining since the day you left.
Pouring.
I've been waiting for you to walk through that front door.
Home.
And I'd be lying if I said I've compared and mapped your every freckle to the stars in the constellations.
But there just wouldn't be enough time in the world to intake something as so beautiful.
Especially when you sailed away so long ago and left me to buoy with the tiger lilies
Until I finally sank to the bottom.
Drowned.

I could be heartless
I could reply with who is this
And some part of you would shatter
knowing that I have attempted to remove you from my life but
the truth is you are still on my phone as much as you are on my mind
There, but not given much attention
Sure, you exist, but only quietly

I think of you sometimes like when my toes are touching sand or
when I have a glass of maker's mark in hand or
when I hear your name in someone else’s mouth
But to be completely honest
I am not broken over this

So your hello comes a few months too late and mine from a few months before has been left without response
I could say hey I miss you too but
that would be considered a lie
Maybe I do now and then but mostly
I only miss you when there is nothing else to miss

Like a vague memory of something that used to sit in the corner of my room
I know it was there but I don't remember much else about its presence
I don't know what to say after it’s been almost a year
I waited for you, too long but
I am not broken over this
Summer has passed and another is coming,
Maybe I will find another you in the next

When you send me a text five months too late I will not be heartless
I will say hello like time hasn’t added pressure on the ache, like
maybe I could still love you the way I did yesterday and
some part of you would be whole knowing a part of me is living in the past,
where we are alive together

I go out to dinner with a near stranger
we sit on the same side of the booth and
I think about how you're the only one who
knows how much I hate that

I drink a drink with ***** and lime and
***** and it almost makes me feel like
I know who I am when I'm with someone else

I don't think of you often but last night I did
I remembered how your arms are the
only place where I am not self-conscious

I lie next to him on my balcony and
there are a lot of stars above us but
I'm the only one who notices

he is thinking about what I look like naked and
I'm counting how many hours of sleep
I will get if he leaves before 2

there is not an absence of feeling,
just a different kind than I'm used to
he touches my hand and I smile in
a way that doesn't feel forced

I spend a day with a near stranger and realize
there is so much he does not know about me,
so much he doesn't care to

like how I got my nose pierced at 14 or
the amount of time I spend in the mirror each morning
picking myself into something I can carry only semi-confidently

he only learns I can't ride a bike when he asks if I want to
he has no idea that my blonde is shielding a deep brown or
when I got the freckle above my lip or
the inch long scar underneath my chin

he doesn't care and that's okay
when he leaves we say I miss you but
in a different way than I'm used to

it is not a pain swelling to be morphined
nor is it a pulling from the gut but instead
it is the ever temporary desire to fill the excess lonely

we say I miss you and still mean it but
it is not the missing that a body feels for
a phantom limb

I am with him now and probably will be again but
moving on doesn't mean I don't miss you
it only means I'm trying not to

just because I'm all right doesn't mean
I don't wonder how you are
I can still be happy with the existence of a quiet ache

but yes I do
miss you,
I will until the day I can sleep without having to count sheep
I will miss you even if there are no stars in the sky to remind me

I don't think of you but last night I did
the moon was too bright and
I was the only one
who noticed

Today after you left I felt it
-There are sweat stains in my sheets and my cheeks are still red-
I tried not to but I did
-My shirt is somewhere on the floor in a pile of later-
I told myself I wouldn't get this way yet here I am
-I'll throw on something else and let you out-
There was a heavy in my stomach that I can't explain
-Fall back into this bed alone-
Maybe it's the future or lack of
-I'm tired and my arms are grabbing for air-
I didn't want to feel anything
-You've got priorities and I don't know what it takes to become one of them-
But now I'm feeling too much.

I fell asleep at 6 a.m. and woke to find
that my bed smells like someone new-
I don't know where you are tonight

His lips kissed me like they were
looking for a light switch in the dark-
I don't know if you think of me at late hours

I pushed him back slightly and he asked
if everything was okay and I said yes-
I don't tell him where my thoughts are

Tired, I'm tired, that's my excuse for
losing myself when I'm with a stranger-
I don't always know how to find my way back

I'm trying, see I am, really but
there's a reason I kept coming to you so easily-
I don't know how to find familiar in someone new

The scent of my attempts to move on is
making me sick and I can't do much about it-
I don't know how to get you here again

I stayed up until 6 a.m. with him when really
you're the only one worth losing sleep over-
I don't know if that means you're winning

I don't know where you are tonight-
I don't know if I want to know

Just when I thought I've
written you out completely,
scratched your memory off the edges of my bones,
wrung the imprint of your lips from mine,
wretched out every word you ever poured into me,
tore your image from the hippocampus of my brain,
Just when I thought I had said
all there is to say about you,
about us,
about this,
Just when I think I have
finally left it all behind,
You come back to me.

In my dreams
in my late nights
in the bottle of wine I force myself to finish
in the pack of cigarettes I don't even like smoking
in my wandering mind
in the short seconds between each day
in all of my writing,
Your name is always the first thing to be marked down.

Lover, I can't forget
I am still spilling your tongue
from my mouth
You seep through my pores on hot days,
the freckles on my face remind me
of how you once found constellations in them,
you built galaxies in my eyelids,
lover,
the cleansing is only just beginning.

I am too full on our history
There is no empty when it comes to us
I will be forever ridding
myself of your contents
I thought the tidal wave of
still missing had passed
but here I am
drowning again.

Doggy paddling to stay afloat,
I have never been very good
at swimming. I am still
hanging on to the deflated
life raft that is your hand,
you let go of mine a long time ago,
it's about time I do the same.