(Not those dissatisfying)

Sugar water memories
Sweet without substance
Our turn to flavor
The drink of the day

Fighting with hoses and sticks
Sprinting after cars
Chasing down a train
Fueling our fires

Cramming into a phone booth
Rocking out to Queen
Picking up 2am trash
Cooking awful things

And after every night
We're drunk on coffee
And late night window shopping
With lots more to keep

(Than sugarwater drinks)

The safety of the black, winding, snake of a trail is like an arrow pointing me home.

I flee from this serpent of tar, for the promise of discovery awaits me at the bottom of the hill.

I’m surrounded on all sides by the Sylvan Queen, her antlered familiars, and her army of trees.

I need only to march east to return to the realm of men and metal, but the woods beckon still.

I blanket myself under the brittle fallen leaves that have felt autumn’s kiss and gravity’s hand.

With hesitance, I find myself starting to give in to Gaea’s soft spell of slumber.

I hear the hymns of the birds in their language true and old.

I see the dreams of the cicadas painted vibrantly in the overcast sky.

**** you.

before i met you,
this pain was my only comfort,
now i find myself reaching for you
as if i’ve forgotten how it feels.

And **** you
for finding every lonely crevice
and filling it with your light;
now whenever i cry,
these holes fill with stars
that poured through the sunroof of your car
the night we talked for hours on my street

**** you even more
for making every sunrise this week about you,
and every dawn a new page
to be filled with your name.

and **** you
for showing me what love is
and for proving how wrong i was
in believing it wasn’t for me

but **** you most of all
for making every experience unreal
until i shared it with you
and ******* you, my love,
for giving me a second chance
to fall in love with everything
that you’ve found in me
and i only say **** you
because if there wasn’t the distance that jammed himself
between us causing an ocean’s divide
i would’ve said i love you in due time

they always say
the second time you fall in love
will be far different from the first
diffrent from the usual you had grown accustomed to
did you notice the second time,
how your bones didn’t ache from hurt
but instead they whistled like those recorders
you used to play in 4th grade?
how your bones became empty and hollowed?
how they weren’t trying drown you in their heaviness
like the first did?
they always say
the second time you fall in love
will be far different from the first
because the first is like a freight train collision
but the second,
the second is a sigh of relief someone cared enough
to pull you out from that same wreckage

listen to me, you are going to be loved.
more importantly, you are going to love.

you’re scared because you’re older now
and you’re still all alone,
but i promise you,
you will be loved harder than most.
because you waited
and because you are made entirely of longing.

you’re not going to get the practice,
the dry runs that everyone else gets,
you’re going to get thrown into it
like a wave crashing on you
and you won’t know up from down.

you are going to be so lucky.
you are going to fumble through all of it at first,
you’re going to throw yourself out of every window imaginable
before you find your feet and your head.

you are controlled by your heart and that is okay.
you are lonely and you’ve been waiting so, so, so long.
but it’s coming
and you aren’t going to be ready for it;
people like us are never going to be ready for it
but that is why we will be okay,
because our mistakes will feel like the end of the world
and there is nothing better than feeling the ground crumble beneath you
and there is nothing better than finding out there is a surface underneath it.

you are going to love hard and probably too much
and you will be loved back so fiercely
you will want to crawl out of your own skin and float away,
but you won’t
you will stay
and you will learn to accept it.
you are going to be happy
and you are going to be scared shitless.
you are going to change.
that’s what i think love is,
when you can’t remember who you were before
and who you are after it
but it’s all okay (k.w)

i’m 19 years old
and i’ve never written a love poem that didn’t taste like loneliness or regret
i was born with a sad mouth
the kind that holds nothing but tempesteous storms of gray
the kind that curses god, doesn’t believe in fate, and kisses lips more crooked than my own
you see
it took me 21 days to squeeze the ink for this poem out of my pen for you
because i’ve never written a love poem for someone
and because i can’t put you into words
but i’m going to try

1. you are the run on sentence that leaves me nothing but breathless
when you speak, i see colors i never even knew existed
i would lift my head to you if you said my name even with a broken neck
i couldn’t sleep the first week we met
because i knew the empty space in my bed was meant to be filled with the curve of your back
and that your smile was the only sunrise i’d be able to wake up to
i spend all my spare time collecting the different ways you’ve called me beautiful to wear as a golden chain around my neck, close to the pulse in my throat, and thump in my heart
as a reminder of how you’ve made me feel alive again

2. when we first kissed
i couldn’t even find the right words to string together to describe how i discovered home on your lips
i love you speechless and i am terrified for just that reason
and i don’t know if i will ever be able to forklift the reasons why out of my chest
but here’s a start
you want to know why i’m scared? i’m scared because for me
love was always a lot like throwing yourself off the edge of a building
and i had a nasty habit of falling for ghosts who couldn’t catch me
but your hands,
your hands weren’t callused, they were soft
they gave me amensia of all the times i shattered against the pavement
the first time i held them they gave me so much reckless abandon that i knew
if i took my heart and catapulted it to atlanta, new york, london, or cuba
you’d be able to catch it blindly
so please just outstretch your arms and do it

3. i know i said earlier that i didn’t believe in fate
but that was before i started writing this
and because you exist
i believe in fate now
because someone, somewhere
made you carefully, painfully, slowly, and deliberately just for me
because there is no other explanation
for the way my bones ticked like the angry hands of a clock,
counting down the seconds until you found me
i believe in fate now because
the moment we met
the possibility of you and i even breathing the same air
and the number of hellos and goodbyes we will exchange
must have been thought about for centuries
when we were nothing but dust

4. if i could take a minute
somehow place all the galaxies into the palms of my hand and rename every star, every constellation after each moment we’ve had and the little things no one notices about you
like how when you blush, you say “oh gawsh” and it reminds me of a bad western movie and my childhood innocence all wrapped up in one
or how you hate being interrupted
how you have a scar on your abdomen from that surgery you had when you were little
or how you wear bruises and bloodied knuckles from all the times you’ve hated yourself
i would do it
i would make this universe into a story only the two of us could understand
a story that says,
i love you…
for as long as you want me to (k.w)

to be honest i never knew how to write about a boy i'd never met
and i also didn't know how to write about meetings
and i didn't know how to write about boys
but i remember seventeen years ago today, in a past i wasn't a part of and that i could never imagine, a boy I'd never met was born

but he grew up and up and up and his sandpaper heart was replaced by pints of lukewarm whiskey in the red cup left on the steps that morning and his threaded thoughts pieced together not-so-carefully were replaced by cigarette smoke lingering around his mind and out of his nose like smoke creeping through a burning building with no hope of escape for the one that broke in just to leave the gasoline by the furnace and his twisted insides were replaced by infinite spacetime and universes, bending and breaking and breathing stardust and misplaced trust and alcoholic aftertaste and burning paper

to be honest i never knew how to write about a boy who was replaced by cigarettes and whiskey and outer space and music and reasoning and tshirts and sarcasm and modernity  
but i did know how to write about someone who mattered
and i did know how to write about being entirely made of little something elses and being replaced
and he knew how to be the muse