after years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor i think i finally understand why the face staring back at me in the mirror is so unfamiliar

i am not my dark eyes, i am not my crooked nose, i am not my thin lips, i am not my rosy cheeks

no, i am the hairstyle that my mother taught me how to do before middle school started so that i could take care of myself
i am the love poems that run through my head all day because language is so wonderful and you are so wonderful and sometimes i can't help but experience certain compositions as many times as possible
i am the friendship bracelet that i wear on my wrist that matches with my best friend who would never wear a bracelet in a million years but did it for me
i am the whirlpool of love that exists behind my eyes that shy glances and awkward eye contact put there

i see myself in my fingers mindlessly tapping out rhythms from my favorite songs, not in my tears, but
i see myself in everything i mourn for

i see myself in the money i saved from my grandmother's funeral three years ago because i am too attached to part from it, not in my smile, but
i see myself in my inability to keep a straight face when someone laughs at my jokes

the years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor was worth it because i see myself in those too, more doodles in the margins of the storybook of my life

in the end, i became who i am because of you

All things ancient are once born young.
All things secret are shared by tongue.
All things hatred are worn with love.
All things whispered are sung by doves.
All things stone always come undone.

Dearest divine distance, I pray, be more familiar,
Be kinder, be closer, I can't yet make out your figure,
Omniscient darling distance, could you beckon me to you?
Desperately I've called out in the dark, be nearer that I may be new.

something about you. something about october
the dried up leaves and the way everything feels quiet
in the middle of the day
like living inside of a vhs tape that hasn't been rewound
in a decade or two
makes me want to start visiting the cemetery
make friends with the forgotten
when we ended up walking the dogs there on accident
it felt like coming home
i'll bring my books and a bag of dried cherries, peanut butter
bars of dark chocolate wrapped in gold foil, sunflower seeds
the nightstand with the warped wooden drawer
that's always getting stuck
where i keep the half-melted birthday candles
and a box of matches, just in case
prop my pillow up against a headstone
read vonnegut until i fall asleep
grow closer to death until it doesn't scare me anymore
i used to think ghosts lived in mausoleums but now i know
they live inside of a twenty-four-year-old who watches
the same vampire movie every time it rains
just to feel safe inside the familiarity of the past
i'm still the twelve-year-old girl
just waiting for something to happen to her
i burn my skin in the shower just to feel less alone

before I met the man I love,
I had a bad history of
entering abusive relationships.

it might not make sense,
but a healthy relationship
used to be so much scarier
than an abusive one.

when my ex got angry,
he would hit me.

when my boyfriend gets angry,
he walks away until
he's calm enough to have
a rational conversation.

my ex was predictable.
I knew what was coming.
I could brace myself
for his punches.
I was never unprepared.

the first time that my boyfriend
walked away, my body
physically shook with fear.

because he didn't hit me,
and because violence
was all that I knew,

I was so afraid that
he would come back
with something much
worse than a punch.

he came back with a hug
and an "I love you."

now, I would be afraid
if a man tried to hit me.

it might sound strange,
but I am so happy
to be so scared

because that means
I've stopped wanting abuse.

it means I've finally realized
that I am deserving of love.

i pull away
i don't know what to say,
it's too familiar
my apprehension
at simple questions,
at gentle whispers

we'd spend our evenings
chasing feelings
we'd try to capture
hypnotized
by those lattice lies
we manufactured

but i can't talk
i missed so many calls
and i can't think
i just can't get involved

i'm on a break, i just can't take this,
i'm suspending consciousness
my reality
has lost all consonance

but, oh,
there's nothing much i miss
and, oh,
i just wanna stay like this

to read my past journal entries is
to walk on an intimately familiar path,
one in which I know the major landmarks,
the steep mountains, and the deep valleys.

even though I can walk on this path
with my eyes closed and get through,
I don't. I slow down on the way,
noticing flowers I didn't see before.

I pluck a leaf off every flower stem,
and keep it safely between my palms.
the leaves remind me of the flowers
that grew despite the harsh conditions.

whenever I wish for a new beginning,
I blow on a leaf and let it guide me.
I smile, exhale, and walk forward.
behind me, new flowers are blooming.