hi, yes
hello
what a pleasure it is to see you again
you look great
you look so soft in that sweater
i wish i could actually tell you that
like out loud
but like,
that'd be weird right?
no, no
yeah, of course it would be
we're just
friends
after all

oh you want to get to know me better?
what an honor!
i am so very glad that you do
just don't run away if i make things too awkward
just don't run away when i can't think of anything to say
just don't fall in love with me
if you are falling in with a rope in your hands
you know, in case you feel like climbing back out
and stuff...

just don't do it
please
okay?

You sought after, sparkling, shining ornament, you.
Hasn't anyone ever told you that you have diamonds for eyes?
When I say diamonds, what I really mean is a room full of mirrors.
Walls and ceilings and their endless streams of crystal laughter.
It echoes until I picture myself pulling my own hair out.
I grimace at the thought of the pain, so I braid it instead.

There's a surface harmony, I'd say.
If we were to wear our feelings as clothing,
you'd fit into an ensemble of red and roaring pride.
As for me, I'd find myself in the green shades of
hand-me-down jealousy.
When I say jealousy, what I really mean is
watching the boy I like look at you like you are Mount Everest
makes me feel like an anthill.
When he invites his best friend to join him and I for lunch
so "things don't get awkward" and asks me how you are doing
like you are a symphony
makes me feel like elevator music.
And when I say elevator music, what I really mean is
mindless, empty, nothing.
Unnoticeable.
Unappreciated.
Unworthy of being listened to.
He hears me, sure. But, he doesn't listen.

And that is not your fault.
You are not the one who broke my heart.
You are not the one who used distance as a weapon.
You are not the one who didn't care how it affected me.
You are not the one who didn't love me;
he is.

Friend, it is not because of you that I compare myself to
that one book that never leaves the shelf.
To dwarf planets.
To the first and last slices of off-brand, out-dated, white bread.
It is not because of you that I feel you are more and I am less.
It is not because of you that I have a hard time
swallowing my insecurities.
It is not because of you that I feel I am in a cage, rusty, hanging.
It is not because of you that I feel jealous.
That I feel unnoticeable,
unappreciated,
unworthy of being listened to.
It is because I have allowed myself to feel that way.
It is because of me.

Our friendship is a house I forget to clean,
a garden I have not watered in weeks.

Tell me, how else can fresh air ever come in
if you don't open the windows?

Please, forgive me for the achey, cold moments
where my "never mind" translated into "you made this mess".

You did not make this mess.
You did not make this mess, but you are complex.
And when I say complex, what I really mean is
you are paintings of baby cherubs and roses
on dome ceilings.
You take your time; I can be impatient.

Yet, my dear, dear friend,
your result is a masterpiece.

Friendship is a fine art and deserves to be treated as such.

And I
am so, so
sorry.

there is anticipation and excitement
when a song fluctuates into a higher key
and the bass line brings about a certain groove
that all of a sudden
you find yourself feeling greedy for more and more of it

that feeling of a heart happily sinking to the bottom
is your gift to me
when i catch you looking first

there is anticipation and excitement
when a story flows so smoothly with each turn of the page
and your eyes can't keep up with the pace of your curiosity
that all of a sudden
you find yourself feeling greedy for more and more of it

that feeling of a heart wandering through a sky of possibilities
is my gift to you
when you catch me looking first

it is a mutual state of mind where the two of us are wondering
where can i go with this?

where?

i am so glad that you are the kind of person
who doesn't mind bad poetry.

i am so thankful you are the kind of person
who believes in chivalry.

i am so glad you are the kind of person
who holds doors,
who buys me tea,
who makes sure the umbrella is above my head,
who saves space for me on the sidewalk.

i am so thankful for the kind of person you are.

never change your heart, songbird.
never change.

today is the day
that i turn a year older than i was just last night
the digits have rounded their corner
and i am fortunate enough to see
the beginning of my second decade

another orbit around the sun
another 365 day interval
it's all just spinning
spinning
just like me

sweet downfall,
i find myself crashing harder than the time before

i'm chasing what i've romanticized,
a false interpretation that
his smile was the only source of light in my mind's darkest crevasses,
his eyes were full of an expected curiosity
but i've learned not to lean on my own understanding

he pulled streams from my eyes without awareness,
and he keeps these tides continuous

it seems like i can't get the image
of sitting in the passenger seat,
watching the lights of the traffic signals
reflect on his face,
camouflaging his blushing cheeks
out of my head of distorted dreams
and impossible realities

i lean in until i wake up

he is oil,
i am water,
somehow the laws of the universe
prohibit us from ever meeting.

one of us is handling that predicament
better than the other.

How heavy are these words unspoken:
It's almost as if I disregarded
All the weight of the world
Already on my hollowed shoulders

I've found my new hold of home
And despite a pulsing contentment that makes more than sense,
I'm still catching my muffled thoughts
Request your attention;
It's that kind of imagining
That feeds off tunnel vision
And brief but meaningful exchanges

It's that kind of
"Where have you been all my life
and why can't you be a part of it now?"
That performs like automatic transmission
And interprets a second of a glance
As a spark of a chance.

The damage is done, I suppose
Nothing could really burn worse
Than what the flames have already touched

You have your ice princess
With her glistening curls
And bright, beautiful eyes
To cool you down when
Your temper begins to scorch

...

And it isn't me.

How heavy are these words unspoken:
It's almost as if I had disregarded
Any pinch of this mysterious mess that is romance
Counteracts
My sturdy, broad, broad shoulders

i haven't met someone who made me want
to write so badly
in a long, long time

this morning i woke
the same way you did
lonely never
in a box i have made my home

you go by with your day like you always do
holding onto what is innocent
and smiling sweetly at those who pass by
you don't say hi unless they do
you timidity is showing, dear
it's so awkward on me
but endearing on you

we both are fragile extension lines
on the streets
that taper and adjust
to whatever the winds may bring

this night you wore a sweater
and i stayed up a little later only to see
if the off chance of you stopping by
would stop by

it's a quarter past
Cinderella losing her glass slipper
and my priorities are exponential
yet all the encompasses my mind
is your kindness
and how it glows in the dark

i hunger for answers
although we both may be soft-spoken
i wouldn't mind the screaming
as long as it had meaning
as long as it mended to the broken

but you are older
and wiser and smarter
and more experienced
than my little heart is

still i ask, where would this take us if it could?

i ask God to hear me breathing
to hear my singing
and wondering

if i am breathing, there is no time to waste
if i am singing, then i am on my way
to something beautiful and grand and new
and if it is in His plan, then it will be you

all this is simple mush
fluff in its raw form
half of the time i don't even know
exactly what it is i am trying to convey
it isn't something that we have to say
it is silent but it is recognized
for you said it all with your eyes

slowly falling i am
drooping to the middle
and climbing uphill again
until my cup fills again
it won't be half empty for too long

after all,
we both are fragile extension lines
on the streets
that taper and adjust
to whatever the winds may bring

I could search the universe for the right words.
I could look through every crater of every moon.

I could put the sentences dancing on the tip of my tongue
in a beautiful arrangement.
They would be in perfect and symmetrical lines,
they would move and jump and synchronize with the grace of a thousand swans,
creating a heart shape out of themselves.
They would spin and twirl and blossom through the cold ground like the eager flowers after this eternity of a winter.
Can't you see that it is a bouquet, a ballet, and a declaration all in one?
Each letter would be tied perfectly in its place with a silver ribbon.

And it would still not be enough to express how much of a gift you are to me.

The way I see it,
you are as safe as you are warm.
You are as vibrant as you are beautiful.
You are as patient as you are kind.
Each moment with you is like opening a present.
Your feet leave a trail of with each step you take.
Music notes follow you around like they do with a character in some cartoon I used to watch as a child.
Your smile is contagious and leaves everyone's cheeks hurting.
A color banner that reads "happy" finds it way above the head of every person you share a laugh with.

And I will always, always celebrate knowing you.

You, my dear, my gift, my sweet love,
are something to look forward to and something to be
immensely,
truly,
and eternally
grateful for.

and here in my past week
an entire universe has been modified and shifted

it's all still vaguely familiar though
i remember all the pathways like the back of my hand

you see,
no matter how often i fight myself on this
and no matter how often i  stare at that map, seeking a different way

they have all led back to you

so to think that maybe we were both a bit timid at first
ignites a warm fire

these flames that lace my nerves
electrify and superimpose onto a neon background
and they fill this empty bed when i feel weightless

you called a name
and it took me a moment
to comprehend
that it was mine

you told me
that i had exceptionally dark eyes
and asked if i knew how to dance

if only you knew that meeting you
was an event for the books
a milestone, in fact

little moments replay
on this continuous loop
that i wouldn't dare take any bribe to stop watching

exchanges that one would normally dismiss
or not think anything of
are so
so
significant to me

little memories have this habit of whispering,
"hey. i happened."

i listen for your song
time and time again

and never before have i wanted there to be silence so bad

a freckled face:
sharp and dark eyeliner outline
the brand new skies in her eyes
and i wish i could capture the moment
she smiled at me for the first time

a strong personality:
her mother taught her
to dance in the space between
being vulnerable and guarding her heart
and i wish i could capture the moment
she took me to that place for the first time

a gracious heart:
strawberry cheeks and fits of laughter
fill the void in my bones
giving me the best kind of chest pains
and i wish i could capture the moment
she referred to me as her "best friend" for the first time

i think everyone deserves someone like the honeybee
someone who is fierce but gentle
someone who you could never find in anyone or anything else
someone who should always be followed by a round of applause
someone who plants happiness with each step
and watches it bloom around her little town

you are a champion and you help me to see that i am one too
you encourage the best parts of me, abby

i hope that i do the same for you

it's never an easy game
i could buy out
all the books of secrets
i could memorize
every single tiny cheat code
and nothing would help me
understand why you are there
with her
rather than here
with me
i've convinced myself that
"there's always someone else"
always, always, always
it makes me wonder if i will ever
find a man that will
willingly harmonize with me
singing
"you are the only one for me"
*never, never never