Look at me –
we are in this room
in this house
on a night where
you are bored and lonely
and want to prove that you can
have skin on skin,
lips against your neck,
her purring your name,
and I know how this works-
you look at me,
eyes half open,
and I look like the stars
but look at me,
I am no constellation.
I am the OPEN sign
blinking, half-lit,
on a motel lobby door.

I'm fun for the night.
All quick comebacks
and a ****-me smirk.
Everything I say sounds
like a challenge that
I, by the end of the night,
will have you dying to
accept – because between
the tequila and the beer
and the fact that at least
I am a body,
tell me you won't say no.

I am not stupid.
If this is happening
it is because I am letting it.
So go ahead, tell me
that I am beautiful,
that you want me,
pull me into you
and kiss me on the forehead,
let me think that you care
and I promise I will let
myself believe it.

But don't think about,
do not even think about,
thinking about me the next day.
Because I am one-time use and
toss kind of woman. I am not
the kind of girl that guys love.
If I learned anything,
in twenty years,
it's that I am not an investment.
I am a novelty.

I can no longer stand to fight facts.
This is my white flag to the Universe.
Because pretending to be something you
are not is a pain worse than
the ache of knowing.

I am no a constellation.

Tell me about the bridge.

So far up,
baby, I know
you think you are invincible.
Alcohol and stardust
run through you and
nothing hurts you anymore.
You don't need anyone.
These days you feel nothing besides
the bottle sweating in your hand—
the less you feel the better.

This is how you live.
This is how you survive
in the world that you didn't choose,
but sure as hell chose you.

Nothing will break you.
Nothing nothing nothing
nothing—tell me again
what you don't need.  
God ******, you aren't
even fooling yourself.

So, tell me about the bridge.

You said you were fine.

things you said to me while drunk

1. I remember all of our moments.
2. I'm very…generous.
3. I guess we'll have to wait and see.
4. It's our first time.
5. We're going to my room.
6. You aren't drunk enough.
7. Good night, Sam.



things I said to you while drunk**
1. Come over.
2. I'm not trying to ****** you.
3. I guess we will…
4. I was just trying to be nice.
5. It doesn't matter.
6. You have a problem.
7. I think I miss you.

I was born on a Sunday.
My eyes change colors
depending on the weather.
I am 5' 2'' but feel like I am 5' 6".
I don't know how to do Calculus.
I am okay with that.

My first name means "one who listens".
I wish my middle name meant "one who speaks"
because my God, I am a wishing well
and people have the tendency to toss
their secrets into me. And their loss, their pain,
their anger, their sadness, their regret
it fills up a part of me that I thought was infinite.
I am on the constant verge of spilling over and
when I walk I feel like a garbage bag, dragged
against cement, one sidewalk scrape away
from coming undone. I am expected to keep
everyone's mess inside.

My friends tend give me **** for the amount of
time I can spend staring in the mirror.
The secret here isn't that I'm vain,
it's that approaching my reflection is like
ripping off a band-aid because looking
myself in the eye still makes my stomach flip.
60 pounds of weight lost does not
silence the echoes of words that
convinced me that life as a size zero
was the only life worth living and
I had been alive nine sizes too long.
I can't always remember that I am beautiful.

And I have this collection
of words that I should
have said. When I am alone,
I bring them out from
my closet and introduce
them to the ghosts of
people I have lost,
of the people I could not fix,
of the people I should forget
but can't forget because I
don't want to forget because
there's something about keeping
wounds open that feels better
than letting them heal—
I have always been one to pick at scabs.

This is my declaration of honesty—

My name is Sam.
I can't ride a bike
but I can write you a poem.
I am afraid of perpetually falling
in love with people who won't  love me back.
There is a man in a cell I live to forget.
I am convinced Heaven looks like Ireland
and that soul mates come in multiples.
My voice shakes when I say what I think.
and for once,
this poem isn't for you.

This is a poem for me.

I can't remember when
we stopped chasing each other.
Now you don't know me and I
can't recognize you anymore.
Did we decide to stop caring
or did it happen
the same way the leaves fall from trees?
A natural progression.

You see,
after I decided I couldn't risk
being something someone could stop loving
and you decided you didn't want to try to love me,
we still revolved around each other for months.
For months
we shared the same world,
living on different sides of the same reality;
parallel lines—always in sight
but never touching.

Your light has faded from my universe,
and I only see you now in glimpses.
You are the flicker of flame in between trees. I can see you
but I can not stop you from destruction. I can see
you but I can not touch you.

Look,
I only want you to be happy.
That is what everyone says
but now I know why.
When you can't be the one
to give someone light,
you would do anything
to save them from the dark.

I know I can not save you.
but I promise—
you can save yourself.

Tell me about the stars.
Do you see your brother's eyes?
Your mother's smile?
Do you admire the dark
or the light that shines despite it?

2.
When I was in the fourth grade,
when neither of us could sleep,
my father and I snuck out of the house
and took a drive.
With a hand on the steering wheel,
and his other intertwined with mine,
I looked to the sky and
he told me:
Baby, someday you'll meet
someone and you'll realize our
homes are not always houses.

3.
Hold my hand and
I could be a home for you.
You walk through life like you
need nothing from no one.
If you let me, I would be someone.
I would be anyone for you.

4.
I once read that we
were created from stardust.
Beautiful boy, if this is true,
you must come from a supernova.
In the mirror
can you see how bright you shine?
Your fingertips have left me illuminated
and my spine has grow accustomed to the
constant shiver running miles up and down
up and down up and down up and—
Oh darling,
tell me the sun is no competition for my stars.
Hover you hand over my belly,
can you feel it?
I have been burning for you
for years.

5.
Don't you understand?
You are the light in the dark,
the stars in the sky.
Per aspera ad astra--
Through hardship to the stars
You are on your way home.

I.
You made me happy
when skies were grey,
when skies were blue,
when skies were purple
and orange and pink
and looked like a promise,
when skies were dark
and were shining with wishes—
You made me happy.

II.
When I couldn't sleep
I replayed the way
you said my name
over and over and over.
It rang in my head
like a police car's siren.

III.
In between being asleep
and awake my mind
would flash back to the night
where in a drunken haze,
time stopped.
Do you remember
the way you looked at me?
Could you tell that I
couldn't breathe?
The air was thick
with everything we weren't
saying and I wonder—do you
remember?
When your mind is
most vulnerable,
do you think of me?

IV.
You smiled at me
like you loved me
and stared at me like
I was a mystery you wanted to spend
your whole life figuring out
and said my name like
it was sacred
and these things should've
made more sense.
These things
should have meant
more.

V.
In one night
we went from
almost something
to absolutely nothing.
In two sentences
you let me
let you go.

You were supposed
to come
back.

VI.
Everything hurts me.
The way you
wouldn't look at me.
The way you
spat words at me,
like every syllable
burned your lips
on the way out of
your mouth.
The way you
let me walk out
the door without
a second glance.

We weren't meant to hurt each other like this.

VII.
I cried for months.
In bed,
on a park bench,
sitting on a patio at night,
perched on the sink of a public restroom,
with my feet floating in a fountain,
over the phone to a voice, hundreds of miles away.

I cried for months.

VIII.
I want you to know,
it mattered to me.
Even if I meant nothing to you,
you mattered.

VIV.
I've never been very good at letting go.
God knows how hard I try.
I'm sorry it is taking me so long.
I'm sorry I can't look at you still
I'm sorry I have to ignore you but
it easier this way.

Some nights I don't sleep because
what if I can't let you go,
what if time goes on
and I meet someone new
and regardless of moons
and suns and other men's mouths,
I still want you?

I told you,
I am not good at letting go.
My mind is not one to allow it.

X.
I could have loved you.

I'm sorry.