i do not believe in god
but i do believe in poetry
and for me
maybe poetry is prayer
and the universe
is an unwavering ear
in the shape of a god

a list of things to do "when it feels like the hands on your clock have arthritis"

1.  put on your diffuser, put in lavender essential oil, remember that this is what waiting for her smells like
2. go for a walk, but not where the two of you used to walk together, try not to think of how you two used to match your pace with every step
3. do not call her, call your best friend, do not think of how you would rather be calling her and ignoring the very people who are trying to support you
4. play music, but do not put it on shuffle, and do not think about how you would so much rather be listening to the playlist she made and then updated the day you started dating
5. write a poem, but ignore how every poem you write in the collection that has become your every day life still leads back to her
6. do not cry, you have already shed enough tears over someone who can ignore you
7. if you do start to cry, say it is because of your dad, or your work load, or because it is raining and you just have never really been able to enjoy the rain, do not admit that she has the strings to your heart and somehow you are still a puppet
8. make yourself a cup of tea, sit down, and let yourself feel, remember that even if it feels like the hands on the clock have arthritis, slow progress is still progress, you are whole and time will pass

i keep writing
and rewriting
this long message
to you
maybe not a message
but a question
i need to know
is this something
you still want
and by this
i mean mean me
am i something
that you still want

i never know
which to write
when i sit down
and write to myself

i should have taken it as sign
when you told me
you hated poetry
not because
i need you to like
everything i like
or i need you to appreciate
everything i appreciate
but because
when i told you
what it felt like for me
to write poetry
and to read poetry
the feeling of being
grounded and understood
all at once
the feeling of
having somewhere to escape to
and finding a home
you still told me
you hated poetry

i think i get it
what it's like to be
on the other side
and all i want to say
to you now is
i'm sorry

i write them in my notes
keep them like postcards
i cannot bring myself to send
i want to tell you i'm sorry
because i am
i'm really sorry
i'm sorry
that was the best we could do
i'm sorry
that i asked too much of you
i'm sorry
i acted so selfish
i'm sorry
it has taken me so long
i'm sorry
i cannot bring myself to send
the **** postcard

it felt good
to feel wanted
and feel beautiful
and feel good enough
and feel confident
it feels good
for you
to not be
the last person i kissed

one day
you will find our story
tucked inside of
rough drafts
and final copies
of my poems
i think you will
search for your name
and wonder which poems
are about you
ex love
there are poems
that will hold you tight
poems that are the answer
and poems that you will never know
is it you or a new love
and isn't that the beauty of prose
i am finally free
you will not always find the answer
i do not have to be the answer

please don’t make me feel bad
for wanting to talk to you
if we don’t talk much
of course i’m going
to miss you
i think you forget
that i love you

the boy who grabbed me at a party
and ran his hand up my inner thigh
while i stood tense and
pushed his hand away
lives on the 13th floor of my building
i get to ride the elevator with him
while he takes out his trash
and somehow i feel ashamed
the air in the elevator seems to disappear
i have to remind myself how to breathe
i think about how i should not have worn
THAT costume
because somehow my clothes act as
an invitation to my body
and when my friend sees him get in the elevator
she can no longer speak
and when the doors to my floor finally open
i cannot stop myself from crying
the tears feel hot running down my cheeks
and i have to remind myself
that the air is safe to breathe
that my body belongs to me
that i did not invite this

i write everyone
i love
into poetry
how telling it is
that i do not
do the same
for myself

first kiss
you left me with
sandy toes and smiling lips
there was no heartbreak here
no regret
this was easy and carefree
thank you

second kiss
you left me
with the word love
hanging on my tongue
and a 14 minute phone call
to tell me
you could no longer love me
that i was not enough
that you wanted different things
you left me without warning
parts of me are still holding on
to pieces and memories of you
i am still upset

third kiss
you made me feel beautiful
when i needed it most
you made me feel wanted
i think in that way
we both used each other
there were no tears to cry
i am grateful

fourth kiss
when mango svedka
tastes more like assault
than it does alcohol
and your laugh
sounds like a sign to run
i am still scared
of the person
that you left me as
i am still trying to cope

fifth kiss
when you asked
if everything was okay
it felt like a gift
and an act of kindness
you were respectful
of my boundaries
when i needed it most
you helped piece me back together

sixth kiss
i kissed you at a party
there was no romance
no memories
no ties
i felt good walking away

seventh kiss
i have not met you yet
i do not have any expectations
i just hope
you do not leave me broken
like the others
and if you do
i will be there
to piece myself together

you can't always tell me
how much you love me
i can't tell if you have a hard time saying it
because of me
or because of you
i have no trouble telling you i love you
i write poems and paint pictures
expressing myself has never been hard
i think that's why it is easier for you
to not be able to hold my hand
as we walk down the street
to not be able to kiss me in public
to not be able to show me you love me
but when it's just us
and we get to be alone
i can feel your heart beat like a car alarm
and i watch your nose scrunch
as your cheeks melt into a smile
everything else falls to the side
nothing else has mattered
and all that i need
is you

you make me feel like poetry
i too often find myself
turning my relationships
into poems
i write them into
the sea
the flowers
the stars
the song
but this time
you
you make me feel like poetry

today
i am remembering
that self care
is not all
bubble baths &
face masks &
movie nights &
spa days &
essential oils
self care is
reaching out
when i know
i need help
and i am terrified
of the response
i may face

i, too
have poems titled after songs
i can no longer listen to

after this year
you deserve more than an ode
you deserve a symphony
a compilation of
every tear
every laugh
every song
every poem
every doubt
every moment
body
if it was not for you
i would not be here
you are stronger than
i could have imagined
if you decided to collapse
to breakdown
to give up
all i would be able to say
is thank you
how did you do it for so long
but you did not
body
you leave me wondering
what you are made of
i am surprised
that we are one in the same
and body
i know this **** doesn’t matter
but you are beautiful
every scar
every freckle
every stretch mark
every bruise
forms into a painting
colorful and wild and incredible
body
you deserve a million odes
but i only have one
body
thank you will never be enough
but it is all i have
body
thank you

i told the story differently
i made it that
a story
i was not ready
but you were
and i liked you
so i said yes
you are the only person
to ever be inside of me
and i have been waiting
a long few weeks
for my body
to shed this experience
to cleanse me
to help me feel new
i do not think
i have ever been
more grateful
to wake up with
a red stain
on my bedsheets

but this time
it was me
doing the hurting
i cannot apologize enough
i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i never wanted to hurt you
i know that does not mean anything
because i did
i did hurt you
so i will give you every
i'm sorry
i have and hope
you can use them to heal

i will always admire you
you feel this deep sense of empathy
i have never seen before
you care so much about everything
you feel so deeply and strongly
you always make sure to show me
not only do you care about everything
you care about me
thank you

what did i do
to make you stop loving me
i feel unlovable
i would do anything
change anything
become anything
to be with you
and maybe that's the problem

the smell of lavender reminds of waiting
the smoke fills the air
violet lights illuminate my room
my lamp flickers
my phone does not ring
the smell of lavender reminds me of waiting
waiting for you

and when she told me
"it can only get better from here"
i wanted to call her a liar
i wanted to scream
because no,
it won't always get better
and there will be days
when it feels like
the first day all over again
and days where i do not
even think of her
healing is not linear
progress is not a straight line
and when she told me
"things can only get better"
i understood
that she had never felt heartbreak
she has never has the solid floor
crumble underneath her without a warning
and i wonder
if you ever really heal from heartbreak
or if you just turn it into other things
because how can i ever heal from you
i will never forget about us
that is not to say
i don't think it will get easier
but i wonder if i will ever feel
whole again
without the piece of me
i have given to you

i don't think
it will ever get easier
to sit next to you

i don't think
the pit in my stomach
will ever leave

i don't think
i really know
how to deal with this

i don't think
i have a solution
for this

i don't think
you will ever understand
the depth of the hurt you left me with

i do not have all of the answers
i do not even have all of the questions

i want to write myself 14 odes
one ode for every minute
it took for you
to break my heart
one ode for every day
in the month
it took for me to tell you
i had feelings for you
one ode for every page
you read in the book
you kept from me
for months
but maybe 14 odes
is not enough
i want to write an ode
for every time i doubted myself
to prove to myself
i have always been enough
i want to write 14 odes
because i want to change the number
i see it everywhere
and just one time
i want it to belong to me

when everything i asked for
is not enough
to make me happy
maybe there is not an object
to heal a broken soul
i am sorry
i wish there was

what i want to say:
i am not coming because
right now
my body is the enemy
and my mind has chained me
to my bed
i have not felt beautiful
or good enough
in a long time
and all i deserve
is this bed
and all i deserve
is this mind
and all i deserve
is right here
i sure as hell
do not deserve you

what i say:
i'll be there in 5 minutes

and now that you have seen all of me
not all of me exactly
but more of me than anyone else
i am terrified
because i still feel vulnerable
in your arms

my perfectionist hands
will never be able to craft my world
into the utopia i pretended to have
when i also pretended i had you

the first time:

when she left me
i took salvation in poetry
i searched for the words
i needed someone else to say
they understood the pain
they understood the love
they understood the loss
they understood the longing
they understood the absolute chaos
i filled my life with poetry
reading it
writing it
listening to it
and to this day
my mind and my pen
crave the comfort
the salvation
the home
i found in poetry


the second time:

when i left her
i searched for forgiveness in poetry
how do i forgive myself
for leaving someone
who hurt me
who used me
who took advantage of me
how do i forgive myself
for knowing i could never love her
and refusing to lie about it
when i left her
we both cried
i resorted back to poetry
the only home i knew
the only home i still know

i wrote everything down
every thought
every voice
every story
i found some of the same poems
with new meanings
i am forever grateful
for the poems
that hold me tight
refusing to ever let go

the universe must be testing me
she said
there must be something
so incredible on the horizon
that she could not appreciate
without this
the bad
and maybe the universe is reminding her
that bad things do not only come in threes
that is just another thing
we tell ourselves
to justify the hurt
or the universe is letting her know
she is resilient
that she can withstand this long
of this many bad things
and the universe says
that this may be a strange time
but when is it not
the universe reminds her
she is most true in tragedy
she is most authentic in angst
or maybe the universe
just wants to remind her
it is here
to hold her tight
through all of this
maybe that is all she needs

she tells me
i don’t deserve this
and i pretend to believe her
i pretend to agree
i pretend i do not blame myself
i pretend to not find fault in every breath
i pretend like i am happy
i pretend it does not hurt
i pretend
i pretend
i pretend
because maybe for me
pretending is praying
it is sending these things away
hoping for a generous ear
and god is the universe
and i hope that she is patient
and i hope she is forgiving
and i hope that she is there
more than anything
she is there
she has to be

you are not worthless
because she makes you
feel that way

you are not dispensable
because she chose to
throw you away

you are not weak
because you let yourself cry
and be vulnerable

you are not dramatic
when people hurt you
you are allowed to be upset

you are not your mistakes
i know the weight of every regret
sits heavily on your chest

you are not
you are not
you are not

the list can continue for pages
there is no need for reminders
of what you are not

note to self
you are enough
you have always been enough
you will always be enough

put everything else aside
you are the question
you are the answer
you are still enough

i have stopped
letting my sober
thoughts and poetry
wander to you
months after
we are over
my drunk poetry
still finds its way
to you
i am sorry

maybe there is something about being back here/ something about this bed that feels more lonely/ that makes me want to call you/ i wish we could start over/ i wish that night never happened/ for both of us not just for me/ because i loved being held by you/ i loved the way you played with my hair/ i loved the way you wanted me and wanted to show me off/ i wish i met you at a different time in my life/ i want to be able to care about you again/ and seeing you in this place/ makes me miss seeing you in my bed/ seeing you on the balcony/ seeing you in class/ seeing you at all/ i know i should not miss you/ i know i should hate you/ i know i should hate that night/ but i don’t/ i can’t/ i remember you holding my hand/ i remember you keeping me up/ i remember the stairs/ the car ride/ i remember these all fondly/ and then i remember that night in my bed/ the dissonance hits me over the head like an empty beer bottle/ smashing and cracking with every move/ and i start to feel it all over again/ i know there should not be this push and pull/ but if i stop now/ i lose the game of tug of war

i am from
chipped yellow nail polish
i am from
i love you i love you i love you
i am from
because once is never enough
i am from
bare feet on the driveway
i am from
shooting stars and full moons
i am from
the rolling stones on vinyl
i am from
poetry books and lavender tea
i am from
vines encapsulating the brick walls
i am from
lazy sundays
i am from
brown eyes
i am from
never enough snow days
i am from
pausing and rewinding movies
i am from
where time moves a bit slower
i am from
where happiness is the same as sunshine
i am from
home
i am from
here

when you left
i cried
but somehow
when i returned home
i smiled
i felt reassured
you know me
you get me
you understand me
thank you
for being the first person
to read my poetry
and the last person
to make me realize
i am worth something
you mean the world to me
you gave me a home
when i never thought
i would feel at home again
you gave me your hand
and helped me find mine
you were
the first person
to read my poetry
and the last person
i will ever really
say goodbye to

i'm sitting in the back seat
of the car
my dad behind the wheel
my mom in the passenger seat
sitting and writing
instead of telling them
it is not because
i do not think i'm ready
i am
it is because
i do not think they are
i know they will think
they have made a mistake
i cannot be broken
i do not want them
to try to fix me
enough people have tried
but will they ever be ready
i know there is no perfect time
but all i know is
the time is not now

the sky opened into a torrential downpour
i could not see the lights ahead of us
all i could see was you and the rain
but i was not afraid
i slowed down but i kept driving
you laughed and sang and shouted
when the rain cleared
and we drove into blue skys
i was thankful that the drive was with you
you have always helped me get through the rain

and i have to ask myself
how could you
have ever loved me
if you never gave us
a chance
and i keep wondering
what did i do
to make you stop loving me
but maybe
you never loved me
or you were never in love with me
maybe you loved feeling loved
or having someone to hold you

i have a terrible habit
of attaching
emotional and sentimental value
to objects
books in particular
so when i gave you
one of my favorites
along with my heart
i expected you
to treat it well
and to give it back
when you were done using it
and now we are here
far past the end of everything
and you still have that book
my first sense of representation
the first book i truly found myself in
and you have now robbed me
of that home
over and over again
i cannot help but be angry

i told myself
i would write
once a day
and now
i am too sad
to even write
how many times
will i have to
apologize to myself

i am from
chipped yellow nail polish
i am from
i love you i love you i love you
i am from
because once is never enough
i am from
bare feet on the driveway
i am from
shooting stars and full moons
i am from
the rolling stones on vinyl
i am from
poetry books and lavender tea
i am from
vines encapsulating the brick walls
i am from
lazy sundays
i am from
brown eyes
i am from
never enough snow days
i am from
pausing and rewinding movies
i am from
where time moves a bit slower
i am from
queerness
i am from
mom, i’m sorry
i am from
i love you i love you i love you
i am from
because once is never enough

and i remember the poem
you wrote about
yellow nail polish
and today
when i needed you
your light
your smile
your hug
your comfort
your friendship
i bought myself
a bottle of
yellow nail polish
because if i can
not be with you
at least i can
carry you in
my yellow nails

i could have told you sooner
i made up every excuse
i created scenarios
i made myself afraid
i am not sure what to feel
relief or regret
i could have felt this sooner
coming out of the closet
was the scariest thing
i have ever done
but i do not feel
anymore brave than before
i do feel relieved
i do feel loved
i do feel grateful

thank you
for always being "here"
for me
but sometimes
i need you to be here
present
tangible
and i know that is not possible
but sometimes
a phone call
is not enough
sometimes
i need more
a hug
somewhere to put my head
and i'm sorry
that i am falling apart
i don't know what else to do

my life is about me
this has always been
a foreign concept
but now
my life is about me
i have decided to be
intentional
to do the things
that i enjoy
to make myself happy
my happiness should never again
come from another person
and so today
when i sat down
the first thing i wrote down is
my life is about me

months after you left
slamming the door shut
behind you
i am still
breaking my nails
trying to pry myself
back open

i can't decide
if i am scared
of your answer
or your silence
i wonder if this time
it will hurt less
now that i am used to
being ignored by you
i am hoping that if i
can send the message
i will be able to move on
because i don't think
i can date someone else
until we are sitting at a
comfortable resolution