i’m not a boomerang,
or a ping pong ball,
some toy that will return to you
by principle.
i don’t need to see
your drunken lips
stumbling over themselves
trying to find pretty words
that you think
will make me give in.
i’m not some prize
to be won.
i don’t want to be
the second option
when you’re feeling lonely
in the middle of the night,
and i can’t stay
based on empty promises.
(every day i am stronger.)

there’s someone new
in my life currently,
a boy who has taken over
your role and acted it out
better than you ever could.
you made me afraid
to dive headfirst
or march into love
with a blindfold over my eyes,
but i see now
that you were a warning
and not an example.
his gentle hands
and gentle eyes
show me what it means
to love and be loved,
a lesson i would have
never learned if
you hadn’t taught me
exactly what love wasn’t.
(every day i am stronger.)

we can disentangle
our fingers from each other,
our legs and our lips from
their newly-found partners;
we can separate
our simultaneous gasps for air,
tear our gazes away,
and keep our intense touches
from setting fire
to one another’s skin.
but what we can’t do is
untangle our minds;
we can’t isolate our hearts,
creating a wall between,
and force them to pulse
on different beats,
or make ourselves forget
why it is we fell together
in the first place.
because even when
we’re not together,
i’m tangled up in you
and i hope
you’re tangled up in me.

i bought that book for you,
and marked my favorite pages,
and highlighted my favorite lines,
all so you could know
the colors that were bursting
from inside me,
the things i always wanted to say
but never knew how;
but you never got the chance
to delve in and explore
the words that mirrored
those that were
running through my mind;
you never took the time
to know me as i am,
and not as you wanted me to be;
but there’s a part of me
grateful that you didn’t
and won’t ever be able to,
because i’m saving that moment,
saving myself,
for a boy who will actually care.

you say my name
because you need to tell me something
or to ask me a question,
things of that nature,
never because you just feel like it,
but even so,
the way your lips form around the word,
the way it rolls off your tongue,
it takes me breath away.

i say your name
because i'm telling everyone i know
about something you did
that made me smile
even though they've heard it a million times before,
or i'm answering the question
that's on everyone's mind,
as you're the answer for everything,
the only answer i'll ever need.

i want to say your name for the rest of time.
don't you want to say mine?

other girls always get the guys who
take the stars out of the sky for them;
guys who wrap their arms
and their love around their shoulders,
keeping them warm at night;
guys who kiss all their bruises better;
guys who’d go anywhere, do anything they ask.

i get the guys whose
rough mouths taste like cigarettes;
guys who only say they love me after ***;
guys who don’t touch any other part of me
besides my body;
guys who keep in their shirt pockets a list of girls
and i’m always next to be crossed off.

and every day, i ask myself
why i’m not worthy enough.

time seems to slow down exponentially
when you’re staring at the hands of a clock:
a minute can seem like a lifetime;
look away and they will change,
as if they were too shy to do anything
underneath your watchful gaze.

you were like this:
i didn’t know what i wanted until
i was no longer searching for it,
until you came from out of nowhere
and made me see what i’d always wanted
but never knew how to figure out.

I. i tried
rolling around
your name
in my mouth
but quickly
spit it out
because the taste
reminded me of
something like
bitter coffee and
regret

II. last year
around this time
i would have
gladly given you
my heart
on a cutting board
screaming at you
arms wide open
to do with it
what you will
but my
how the earth
has made its way
around the sun
so can you
just imagine
the distance
that i’ve come

III. slowly
you’ve become
something of a
lone star in a
vast constellation
to me
an empty idea
something that
died thousands
of years ago

why do i insist
on giving myself away to people
who push back
with everything they have,
who take what they want from me
and then toss me aside,
depriving me
of my lovely parts,
leaving me with
only my bitter ones?
(and i wonder why
i’m so sad all the time.)

i want to know what love is,
that what i’m feeling
isn’t just a mirage,
a trick of my dehydrated heart.

i want you to take my world
between your two hands
and stop me from spinning
in dizzy circles on my axis.

i want a guarantee that
i’ll never be looked at
by someone else the same way
that you look at me.

(i want you and only you.)

i love it when you
brush the back of your hand
across my cheek
trace your finger along the nape of my neck
search every contour of my body
like a map
draw cities and landscapes
on my stomach
my arms
sending chills up my spine
raising mountains on my skin
and i know you can feel my smile
against your mouth
just like i can feel yours
and nothing has every made me happy
like the bliss that nighttime can bring
and i dread the rising sun
because in the morning
you're always gone.

that night
we fought for the first time.

i opened my mouth
to kiss you goodbye
—you pressed yours to mine,
demure, unsure,
as if you’d never explored
my entire body,
let alone my lips—
but we were on different pages.

and i was suddenly aware
that something had changed,
that our world had shifted
like a car
swerving to avoid a roadblock.

and i was suddenly aware
how much
i still loved you and
how much
i wanted our world to get back
on track—
and never get back off.

my days have been numbered by
the piece of papers holding meaningless words
that i crumple up and toss in the trash,
by the books i’ve gotten my hands on,
by the many coffee cups i’ve held to my lips,
and i can finally dive into prufrock’s words,
feel them encapsulate me,
roll around in my brain and
make themselves at home.
i crave the timelessness that even dickinson
couldn’t have possibly tasted,
the ability to have people to feel something
and connect with my words,
the chance to not feel alone in this world.
my words enter the blank page
without any rhyme or reason
but they help me embody my feelings,
and i pour my heart into my work
with the hope that someone, somewhere is thinking,
i understand what she’s saying.
that’s truly what it’s all about.

i know that lying with him
isn’t what you expected,
that when you kiss,
the only thing you feel is his lips
against yours,
that you feel like
all the fairytales,
all the movies lied
about what true love entails,
that you’re going to keep seeing him,
a small what if tucked there
in the back of your mind,
but you can trust that
your secret is safe with me.

(because i’ve been there too.)