You know, there are so many definitions of the word love out there. You’re mine, I’m theirs, stuff like that is pretty common. I don’t consider that the love I feel right now. Considering you know, I don’t exactly have someone that I can call “mine”. Even if I was technically in a relationship, I don’t think I’d ever use that term. I don’t think love should be this possessive thing. The way that I feel when I’m in love is sort of an off the ground, light and airy sensation. I don’t want someone to be keeping my feet on the Earth telling me that I’m “theirs” when I want to be in the air. I want the person I love to take my hand and just fly with me so we can both be free and airy together. Hell, I’m not even that worried if that person is going to actually hold my hand or not or be with me that way in general. Just being around them is enough to get me floating. The love I feel isn’t one of those you see in a romance book. I’m not getting swept off of my feet by a perfect prince charming. In fact, there really isn’t anything romantic about this at all. It isn’t a sudden spark of chemistry that got me to feel this way, its years of friendship and little things done for each other. And maybe because he is so NOT a prince charming, that I savor those little moments of kindness I get from him. No, he’s not totally rude and mean but he is one of those guys that you couldn’t get to tell you how he felt if you shanked him. Some of my favorite memories include him. Like when we got drunk off of whiskey in his basement at his sister’s party and he danced with me. He’s such a bad dancer… Then we crashed on chairs and sofas around two in the morning and it was the first time I slept over his house and I just felt so happy. But my favorite time of all was when he asked me out of the blue if I wanted to go to a concert with him to see a local band. Not only was the band incredible, but that whole night was. He was flirting with me the entire time and being touchy-feely. I’m pretty sure he even gave me that “I want to kiss you" stare but I didn’t realize that until it was too late. Afterwards he wouldn’t even let me go home, he wanted me to sleep over. We were gonna sleep in the same bed, the other two friends that went got to sleep on the floor. It was me and him. I felt his hand on my thigh, and I then gave in. God it was the greatest feeling to feel loved back. I’m not sure if he really loves me that way. I don’t need him to. I just wanna keep feeling this warm fuzzy feeling for a long time.

Dear Jade,

1. Your mother called you curvy. You mistook it for fat. A permanent reminder in your thigh.

2. The night he broke you. You perceived his uncontrollable lust as a result of your drunkenness. This was punishment.

3,4,5. Food. A scar for every one hundred calories you consumed that day.

6. The result of a suicide attempt. All the bleach in the world couldn't clean this mess.

7. Your plant died. When it did, a part of you died with it. I think you were just looking for a reason to fall apart.

8. Your grandmother died and you didn't cry. This was a reminder you could still feel.

9. FAT again. You gained three pounds and your jeans almost fit.

10. Probably needed stitches. You just wanted to see some blood.

11. Your scars were fading. You couldn't bear to see them go. Start over.

It would take me a lifetime to write the reasons behind every one of your scars.
Please. Let this be enough.
Let me enough. Love me.

i can't go to bed
without hearing those words
pour into my ears
like a bittersweet goodnight

i walk around
with that song in my head
that puts to words
the things that i'm feeling

i scribble your name
in all of my notebooks
like a schoolgirl's crush

you are the air
swirling around my lungs
but i'm just another penny
in the dollars you make
singing
to girls like me

Good morning secret readers
I'd like to tell
of something I saw pass my window
last night.

Last night
though a moonless night
was fret with strange rumblings
and pitter patterings
all about my house.
Pah, was it a mouse?
No, it was my spouse
lit up from her sleep
by who knows what, but
she was spinning
there mumbling
in a sleeptalk.

And she says, and she says to me
"Arlia, my husband,
over the many years you have done me
no misfavor, but I would like to
request a simple repose
away from the stink of your feet.
I, for the life of you,
could never tell you myself.
Love,
the nose."

And just then, I noticed
the bell of a great brass horn
leave my room through the window;
it had been there all along.
Confused, I leapt
to see who was now snickering:
a fat fairy baby who had been
singing mischief into my dreams.
Fat fairy! Thanks
to you, I dip my
feet in Epsom salt...

The caramel corn has taken on a subtle hint of hand sanitizer.
It is enough to **** all the germs.
A kernel escapes and the search party is unsuccessful.

The tile in the bathroom reminds me of other jobs.
Janitorial work,
cleaning up after others.
The tiles in my store were larger and dirtier.

I can't think,
this headache is raging a war.
Aided by my cube neighbors fan.
I snore at night and dream of helicopters.

Things usually come back around to bite you,
like a snake
or NASCAR.
America,
the Land of the Free.

I have lied so much that
it comes out as the truth.

A rusty swing set sits in the backyard,
choked by weeds and broken furniture.
The overstuffed purple couch
has seen better days.
Tonight,
it will sleep alone.

When I am feeling down I count the ceiling tiles,
getting lost at fourteen.
Fifteen is a liar.

What would happen if the stars did re-align?
Just for one day,
the cost of beer wouldn't be so high.
Then again,
the liquor store on Jefferson sells Tallies for $1.19.
Let's not be greedy.
I will buy two of them to make sure that when I sleep tonight,
it is soundly.

The phone keeps ringing with complaints.
People are more interested in their neighbors
than the fire.

Forget about this poem.
It is better if you just skim this literary travesty.
There is no substance.

This new day is failing
and it will soon be cleansed.
Forgive me Father,
for I have sinned.
Please,
watch over those I care most about.

She's so wonderful
She's so cute
She's so pretty
She's my everything
She's so intelligent
She's so beautiful
She's so lovely
She's the one I love
She's the one I need
She's the one who stole my heart


She's definitely my boss
She's such a dynamite gal
She's the reason of every smile
She's my inspiration
She's irresistible
She's my perfect bliss
She's my life
She's a goddess


She gave me a heart attack
She spin my head off
She broke my heart
She rejected me
She friendzoned me
She made me an F.A.
She didn't love me back
She made me cry

But in the end
She's still the one I need
She's still my perfect bliss
She's still my boss
She's still still a goddess
She's still my one direction
She's still the reason of each smile
She's still my life
But the most important of the things which mentioned
Is she's still the one I love

The old blue box filled to the brim
With bandages, Advil, and what my dad used to call "magic healing lotion"
So that we would feel special when putting it on
After falling down
From the monkey bars on the playground across the street
Or that first time I fell off of my bike

Now my pain is more than skin deep
Not a simple dab of magic healing lotion and a Spider-Man bandaid
Will help stop the blood dripping from my wrists

The old blue box filled to the brim
With bandages, Advil, and what my dad used to call "magic healing lotion"
Now sits on the top shelf of the closet
Collecting dust