can you do me a favor?
can you do something for me, in hope that one day i might do something for you in return?
what i need you to do shouldn't be difficult, though some part of me hopes it will be.
i would do it myself if i could.
i need you to stop loving me.
because i can't love you.

i want to
have a cliché
love story.

i want to
fall in love
with someone

who will
kiss me in
the rain,

just to break
up with me
the next day.

i want to
move on
to someone

who i couldnt
care for less ;
and then i

repeat.
repeat.
repeat.

i think i
have fallen
in love.

but its not
cliché,
and no one

understands
that love
is love.

oh, how tongue tied you make me.
just the thought of your pretty fingers
encompassing my own
or your gentle hands
wrapping around my waist
is enough
to awaken the butterflies
from their place of rest
up to my lips,
only wanting to feel
the warmth of yours.

i remember you
once saying that
you loved the clouds.
the way you would speak
about their beauty
contributed to your own
beauty, & i wanted
part of that world.
i learned all the
different types of
clouds, all the
shapes, all the
colors. i wanted you
to see their beauty in
me. but i only appreciated
them ; you were
the girl who truly
loved the clouds.

i picked up the small tube of lipgloss & headed toward the register. "will that be all for you, ma'am?" the woman working the cash register asked me. i nodded as she told me the price : a dollar & ninteen cents. i gave her the exact change & left the store. when she kissed me, i was going to taste like strawberries.

i slam my door shut & stomp over to my radio. i turn it on & crank up the volume. i'm about to change the station when i notice something familiar about the song playing. the notes i've heard time & time again come rushing out of the small box. i close my eyes & breath in the music. memories rush into my head ; memories of me & u. i think of the first time i heard it, with u looking longingly at me, hoping i'll like it. "it's ok," i had said. "just 'ok'?" u asked, smiling. "fine, fine, it's great," i admitted. "told u so," u replied. u walked me home to that song on repeat. suddenly the song is over, just as quickly as it started, snapping me back into reality. i can vaguely hear that a new song has started, but i'm more focused on my thoughts. & as i'm thinking, i realize that u are all i need.

i wont tell you
that you remind me
of the stars.

i wont compare you to something
so vastly different.

you see, darling,
the stars will never
be closer to me
than they are now.
i will admire from afar,
but the stars dont
feel like home.

you feel like home.

"11:11, make a wish" i said quietly, staring down at the silver watch dangling from your wrist.

"how do you manage to catch every chance to make a wish?" you questioned.

"wishes mean a lot to me. theyre the only thing keeping me going," i answered honestly - a lot more honestly than im used to being.

you stared at me. not like the kind of way other people stare at me ; it felt nice.

"i dont know, its silly. but i like the idea of being able to want something really, really badly & getting it, instead of having to pray to some god. wishes dont always come true, but you know that going in. you dont blame the big guy in the sky if things dont turn out."

"i like that," you replied. "thats wholesome."

wholesome.
i'd never even heard anyone describe something as that.

"so what do you normally wish for?" you asked, locking eyes with mine. god, just your eyes take the breath out of me. i stalled, not knowing how to respond. i should just laugh it off, say something like "a lifetime supply of green pepper pizza".

"you," i whispered. i felt the red rushing to my face. my eyes jolted away from yours, searching for an escape from this too real situation. your watch. i stare at its face rather than yours. its soft tick, tick, tick is the only thing i can hear. one hand moves forward a position, & its 11:12.

"think its too late for me to make a wish?" you wondered aloud.

"never," i replied.

you held my hand, interlocking your fingers with mine.

"us."

you, yourself,
must be censored.
a name, a place,
a debilitating trigger.

blocked and hidden -
except in the framework
where memories of you
creep, prowl, lurk.

you’re dead, you’re done
i owe you nothing.
are you forgetting that night?
i see when you’re bluffing.

be patient now,
just a few more words.
how curious! i heard
from a little songbird

that beelzebub, satan,
the devil himself
was shocked, dismayed
at how your lover was dealt.

one hundred days
then bleach through my ear -
youll be just as forgotten
as you wish i were, dear.