baby girl,
when are you going to realize
that love isn't hiding
between the seats of his beat-down car;
it isn't sitting on the tips of his fingers
as they trail down your skin,
begging for more;
and you give in,
because maybe if you allow him
this one small favor,
he'll give you the love you want;
but that's not how it goes:
he tells you he likes you
but he needs to take things slow,
and you can physically feel
your heart shattering inside your chest
and the sound of
the sweet lie rolling off his tongue,
and as much as you know
love doesn't work that way,
you keep coming back for more;
baby girl,
i know you want to feel beautiful,
but love isn't created by two mouths connecting
in the darkness
or bare skin meeting bare skin,
and love doesn't present itself
whenever it's convenient for him.

she loved him
more than she loved air
so she forgot how to breathe;
she loved him
more than she loved water
so she drowned in it;
she loved him
even more than she loved herself
so much so
that she let herself go.

i know it's late
and you've probably already
put down your book
turned off your bedside lamp
and fallen into a deep sleep
but for me it's not so easy
when you're my book
and my bedside lamp
and i can't put you down
or turn you off
because my thoughts can't move
one inch without bumping
into some memory of you
and i'd like to know
how you do it
how you so easily drift off
into a night filled with dreams
that aren't about me.

you can't quite seem
to put your finger on it.
and there doesn't seem to be
a name for it:

what do you call it when
he smiles
and you can physically feel
your heart dropping
into your stomach?

what do you call it when
he looks at you
and your breath catches
in your throat?

what do you call it when
he walks into a room
and nothing else
can draw your attention
away from the tall beautiful figure
making its way
through the door?

do you call it love?
or something else entirely?

i think i may love you
but i don't want you
seeing my chewed-up fingernails,
or my hair standing straight up
first thing in the morning,
or the way i cry
over everything,
or how i care way too little
and way too much
at the same time,
because i fear you may figure out
i'm not who i'm trying to be.

you know
when you find someone
who can make your hands
shake
who can make your heart
collapse
who makes you want
to scream
and cry
and laugh
because that someone
is who you've been searching for
all this time?
for me,
that's you.
for you,
that's her.