i was warned
i'd fall for you.
stay away from him,
they said.
sweetie, he’s bad news.

i laughed it off,
thinking i knew better,
thinking, that this time
would be different.

i always loved a challenge.

three months it took
for my mind
to catch up
with my heart.
by then,
you’d already
moved on.

he touched my arm
as he paid for his latte —
i smiled as he talked.
he’s going to budapest.
same time as me.

he asked if i could
recommend things to see.
easy.
the ruin bars,
the chain bridge.
the gellért baths,
if you like steam.

i could be your guide —
i didn’t say —
i know a great place
i could take you.
it doesn’t need a ticket.
conveniently,
it’s located
in my bedroom.

‘take off your clothes,’ he said.
i glared — long enough to matter.
he peeled off his cardigan,
set it on the desk.
‘wear mine.’

another glare.
maybe half a smile.
‘i know how much you love it.’

then he walked away,
knowing my heart melted —
not from the warmth
of his sleeves
wrapped around me,
but from the fact
that he noticed i did.

later, when the rainy days passed,
i looked for my scarf.
i was sure i left it in the office.
‘you did,’ he said.

‘so where is it?’
‘i took it home.’
his grin lit the air between us.

‘what can i say?’
hands over his heart.
‘i needed something
to warm me up.’

we got drunk on pálinka,
that tasted like cheap nail polish
as the day drifted into sleep,
watching mismatched friends
in their twenties
dancing in a garden,
barefoot, and dizzy,
writing silly poems
in each other's hoodies.

i kept thinking about that
horse we brought to life
the whole bus ride home.
wondering
if i really had been on the bus,
or taken a long walk.

i recognised our house,
but the way upstairs was tricky.
thinking it was mine,
i crashed into my housemate's door -
maybe not accidentally.
the more the blur fades,
the more it becomes clear,
i just thought he was cute.

so i folded myself into sleep
before the truth arrived
and made it all too real.

Russel was given the nickname ‘Knowsy’,
Because he knew just about anything.
If the signs weren’t apparent, like the glasses on his nose,
Russel was a nerd, and believe me, Russel knows.
Whenever someone needed help on a test,
“Russel knows,” and he dealt with the rest.
When the **** needed to finish his homework,
“Russel knows,” and then the **** forced him to work.
Oh, the curse of knowledge,
How the nerd turns from a laughing stock to a precious commodity.
Reduced from a human,
To a know-it-all without an identity beyond his brain.
Russel hated how he knew this pain.
Haley needed a favor,
An assignment was due,
And she couldn’t afford to fail.
So she went to Russel,
Not knowing about his crush,
Would his heart prevail?
He was skeptical,
Why was the prettiest girl in the world talking to him?
He had envisioned this in his head,
But it was only hypothetical.
Russel knew that it was too good to be true,
When the first words she said were,
“What did you get on number two?”
He was being used…again.
Russel knows how it feels to have your smarts be used against you.
Russel knows how knowledge can wound you.
Russel knows these things to be true.

i told you "good night, i love you".
yet
i am not sleeping.

i am listening to the stars sing a song

a note
for every time i have thought of your fair, blush-drunk skin and
sweet, tender soul
melting and mixing with mine at the brush of fabric and shoulders and loud laughter in a space too public.
but i don't care.
i don't think you do either.

it might take four shots of ***** to feel that way again.
but
i only need to see you smile
and i know next morning i'll have a lovestruck hangover
and be changed for the next week.

this is the reason why
we should never, ever get married.
unless
this is simply what no one ever told me about real, raw, love
that hits you like a train
the cargo is sugar
bleeding red roses
and now i don't have to buy twelve at the store for nineteen ninety-nine.
first autumn chill freezing my toes inside my shoes while i wait after knocking at your front door
(we're going to the nice restaurant downtown.)
waking up to a tornado warning at five AM and my first thought is if you're okay,
opening the kitchen windows to the smell of fresh rain and you're texting me pictures of the rainbow.

falling asleep at long last

and at long last dreaming of you.


the stars are singing a song
and in my dream, curled up close next to you

i am singing too.

s.
   s o n o r a ,
n.
   n o t  r i g h t  n o w
a.
   a m  b u s y ,  c a n ' t  t a l k                  
p.
  please don't leave
d.
  d o n ' t  g e t  a t t a c h e d  s o  f a s t
r.
  rare is true attraction and rare is reciprocation. how quick you are to dismiss it
a.
  am I to go on with my life as if you are not a steadying force? you will let me stumble
g.
  g u e s s  ******>.
.
.
n.
  now is the end? love is irrational but you don't understand

on the sun-soaked terrace,
with the stem
cold against my fingers,
I raise my glass to your laughter
and the wind tousling my hair.
we are gleaming golden,
fermenting a quiet kind
of sweetness.

your presence
slips past my guard,
softening the stains
of our past,
like sunlight
through old glass,
faintly blooming still.

you’re a risk to me,
to my sanity.
asking me to walk
barefoot through hell —
not to escape it,
but to understand.

i’ll happily drink to the fire,
to this dauntless
absurdity
building a shrine
in shades of dangerous red,
stirring the fallen ashes
our burnt-out flickers
once left.