Your touch is like
the flutter
of butterfly wings
ghosting on my skin,
setting off an explosion of fireworks
causing ripples in time
and tsunamis to form
halfway across the world.

Sometimes I wait
for daylight to break
but the state of my heart
crawls melancholic, dragging itself upon the cold hard floor
and it drips
sticky like honey
this evenings passage
leaves me mostly aloof
and often adrift.

Real life isn't always perfection
Often it's nervously bitten digits and cracked nail polish.

Real life isn't always photogenic
Mostly it's oily faces and adolescent outbreaks.

Real life isn't perfumed or pretty
Sometimes it's pit stains and bad hair days.

Real life isn't a page in a glossy magazine
Airbrushed and edited to curveless perfection.

Real life isn't about salads and diet coke
It's more like ice cream and pizza at 3 am and fat days spent in yoga pants feeling sorry for yourself.

Real life isn't always smooth sailing
Rather it's more like "I hate you" one minute then "I love you" the next then "shut up, go away" right after that.

Real life isn't fantasy
It's the 9-5 grind and knowing you'll never make enough to afford all the things you want.

Real life is never how you expect it to be
So when you tell me that I'm beyond perfect and that you don't deserve me . . .

What do you expect me to do . . . degrade myself so I'm imperfect for you?

It’s 17:49 and I am reminiscing about you
Wondering where I went wrong, or we
There’s still a stab in my heart when
I listen to silly love songs
People talk about love
Photos of you streaming
On my timeline

It’s been 4 years
21st of September
I remember
You looking into my eyes
Eyes groggy
Pale face
Wounded knees

We went to the same summer class together
After that day, I looked forward to Saturdays
Wondering what happiness is in store for me
When I see you again

It was your passion
Coaches impressed
Friends amazed

It was I who asked for your number
We talked, laughed at our jokes
Calling for no apparent reason
Sending group texts
With you the only recipient

Days went by and we talked less
Classes started and became busy
I sent you numerous texts
Waiting for your reply

But you never did

Maybe, I got tired of making it up to you
Maybe, it was simply an infatuation
An infatuation you may call
That still went on for four years
And so I quit

I accepted the consequence
Of not being able to talk to you
And see you again
Maybe, I wanted to live a life on my own
I tried to find happiness
So I can finally move on

As I stared at you last summer
In that dark and cold auditorium
As I watch you perform and do
What you loved most

I was once, disheartened, again
Watching you from afar
When I can be beside you

I met you outside
But we just passed by one another
My heart still pumping
And my eyelids carrying
A bucket of tears

-j.t.