2016 taught me nothing feels as cold as the people you love leaving you. No winter, ice pack, or shower can startle and overwhelm you like the absence of a person who brings you warmth, energy, and purpose.

2016 also taught me how fragile the people we consider our rocks can be. People crumble. I wish I could see it happening and do more. This speaks for my individual connections here, and the world around me. I’ll work on it.

2016 showed me the world is unkind and broken, but there are enough people who counter that everyday, and I want to work alongside and among all of them.

i'm baffled by his kindness and patience,
realizing with each compassionate smile he sends my way
that i'm really bad at being a buddhist

i'm hyperventilating in my car,
and it's pouring outside,
and i can't drive home like this

his duvet calls my name,
and i get eyeliner all over his pillow case,
and all he does is stroke my tangled hair

i tell him to date other people,
i try to set him up with my friends,
and i know i'm confusing him
but i need to back track

we don't talk about the messes i leave behind
i don't let our fingers lock
i break the stare if it feels too long

he meets someone else,
and it hurts
because it's the first and last thing i wanted

i don't reach out again,
but when we see each other,
his arms are still open,
just like his mind and heart
they always have been

she's grabbing her coat from inside,
and i don't take a step closer

he meets me more than halfway

he knows
some people push you away with hands that say
please don't go
*please don't go

if earning your trust back required a personal statement from me
and i was seeking admission back into the corner of your sofa of which you sat opposite me

and all i had was 250 words to make you feel something again

i'd say things like i ****** up (but maybe in more academic language??)
and i've been working hard to better for myself, and better for you
and that you taught me things i couldn't learn in a university

love would be in there more times than necessary, but i wouldn't let anyone edit them out because it's true

i love you, and i don't want to be limited,
even though the first time i cut myself off
and i dropped out
and i lost you

i hate word counts because they're just not enough
so i hope these words count

i'm sorry

i'm glad that this is the shortest day of the year
because it means i will spend minimal time awake
and minimal time thinking of you
as if the two have become synonymous over the years

when people have faith in you
and believe you are a good thing for them
will it hurt more to disappoint them with the truth
or disappoint them with the lie

i am not what you think i am,
and i will not be what you believe i can be

you say you'll take your chances
and i grit my teeth
and disagree and disagree and disagree

your smile softens as my edges burn
and the heat brings tears to my eyes

you can't afford to believe in me more than i believe in myself
but it looks like you're willing to go broke trying

i am so tired
and upset

i toss my keys in the bowl by the door
and she kisses me softly,
happy to see me always,
no matter what version she gets

she hums against my lips, curving her mouth up into a smile
and i feel the tiny vibrations of joy
make their way through my body

it's like she's reading me
and suddenly, she knows exactly what kind of day i had
and gives me exactly what i need
and i know exactly how much i love her

and it is so much
and she is so good

the way my body just gives into my bed
i sigh into my pillow
it is exhausting
to think about you so much

and it just doesn't stop
because i know i will dream about you
i know i will think about you as i dress myself in the morning,
wishing you were watching me because you did the ******* last night

i will sit in traffic, wanting you riding shotgun
like you do in my mind
i'd have to blow my brains out to stop feeling sorry

and i'll come home after a long day of work
that i want to tell you about
that i want to hear you tell me about
and it won't happen

and i'll collapse into the mattress once more

sometimes, another man is laying there
and i will never feel about him the way i did about you
the way i still do

i'll be seeing you

the sun's peeking through the shades,
the morning rain has finally stopped,
i roll over, and see you reading the copy of the writings of florence scovel shin that my father gave me and i never paid mind to.
you glance over to me, adjust your posture to welcome me into your side.
and we lay like this for hours, talking about
people who have let us down,
places we want to find,
things that don't matter anymore.

i'm more than a little disappointed in knowing this will end.
we will get up.
monday will come.
you don't even care that my newly blue and green hair is staining your white shirt.

i know that i pick you over my ego more often than i should.
and i have loved you more than i ever thought i could.
but i think you should leave.

because when i lay back down, you always lean over and kiss me.
and i always sigh through my nose, because you always seem to take all my problems away, along with my breath,
and i think i need to learn how to do the former by myself.

before i let you back in this bed,
and decide that you're the most important person in it.

i exhale into your shoulder,
my arms trembling as i lift myself up.
you look pleased with yourself,
pleased with me.

nobody tells you how exhausting it is to love someone
when you can't even love yourself.
it takes twice as much effort, and you feel emptier afterwards.
my body felt like it was going to give out.
every day you called me beautiful,
every day i wondered why.
i'm watching your chest rise and fall, unable to fall asleep this time.
i'm just waiting for the alarm to go off at this point,
knowing you'll go to work and fist bump your buddies.
and i'll be wearing a turtleneck so my students don't think i'm a hypocrite.
i decide not call you anymore after that night.

i toss my keys onto the counter a few months later,
heading straight to my bed.
i collapse, sighing into my duvet,
on the side no one has laid since you.

i sit up after a moment, looking over at myself in the mirror.
my bangs are a little messier,
but there's a little more colour to my skin,
glimmer to my tired eyes,
and the hint of a smile.

i turn all the way around, lifting up my shirt.
you cannot see my ribs anymore.
i exhale once more.

my breath,
my hands,
and the world has finally stopped shaking.

at the moment the sun grows
colder, running shoes are laced.
buds planted in ears to let music
grow.  stretch thru the legs and out
the door -- now he is running
for two miles or more.  *******
down air like coal, this locomotive
just goes, goes goes -- slower now
up a hill, opening a stride before
fertile skyscrapers with applauding
windows.  downtown olympian, do
you do this for fun?  what rhyme or
reason make Hermes' feet run?
sweaty dynamo, athlete without
sport, endurance is a gracious import.
may your heart pump wine thru-
out each vessel. may, like Solo, you
run, these streets your Kessel.