When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of 4 am’s eating donuts on the bus,
Piled in big heaps to conserve warmth,
Not caring who we were laying on.
I think of lips on fire,
Sectionals that drag on and on in
The scorching sun, and staying
At attention for longer than you can bear.
I think of impossibly quick changes into uniforms,
Asking your friends to zip you up,
Band moms wiping off bibbers and shoes,
And when you’re all ready, realizing you didn’t put on your mic.
I think of falling on turf during
25 mph wind gusts, hearing the hail smash your instrument,
Not being able to feel your face,
But knowing you have to play on just the same.
I think of eating at weird times,
Breakfast at 4 am, lunch at 10 am, and supper at 10 pm,
But knowing that when you get you get a chance to eat,
The band dads have got you covered.
I think of laughing so ******* the bus
You’re crying, sobbing even, sprawled across
Your best friends, and you think you’ll never calm down
Enough to ever play your instrument again.
I think of the drum majors’ voices yelling
LEFT LEFT LEFT
Over and over again until the freshmen finally understand.
There’s always that one that never does.
I think of the moment of utter agony
Before they announce the last place in your class,
And you’re squeezing your eyes shut, praying
That at the very least, you won’t be last.
I think of that moment of utter relief
After you hear the last place in your class,
And it’s not you, and your prayers have been answered
That at the very least, you were not last.
I think of the last competition of the season,
When the seniors are bawling and it seems like
Your entire world is crashing down,
And nothing will ever be right again.
This poem could go on forever,
But finally: finally.
When I hear the words “marching band”,
I think of that triumphant moment right
As your show ends for the last time,
That last horns down,
And you know you’ve given it your all,
And no matter what your score is,
You feel in your heart that you have put everything
You have out there,
All the music, the drill, the blood, sweat and tears,
Out there on that football field.
And that moment, you can get no where else, but
Marching band.

Adulthood daunting, calling, taunting.
Empty applications haunting.
Heartbeat thudding in my chest,
Through one more standardized test.

Fear ascending, never-ending.
Transcripts somehow aren't sending.
Catch me dangling off the edge,
Scrambling, I can't feel my legs.

Time interfering, disappearing,
Ground beneath my feet, commandeering.
Lungs burning, filling with water.
Panic prepping me for slaughter.

Indecision, like a prison.
One path splintered by division.
College here, or college there,
Growing up is a nightmare.

I love green eyes with specs of amber
That burn into me while I down shots of coconut liquor

I love little meaningless sins
That imprint themselves all over my skin

I love staring at the stars and midnight conversations
And feeling satisfied without giving into temptation

I love the smell of your perfume on my flannel jacket
And sitting on the hood of your car smoking Marlboro cigarettes

I love the feeling of your head rested against my chest
While we're ****** up on cheap pills and whippits to relieve our stress

I love everything that I know I'll never get back
All the memories condensed into mere flashbacks

All the good times and all the bad
Everything in the past that now drives me mad

All the "I love you"'s left unsaid
All the hangovers that made me wish I was dead

All the early morning before school coffee runs
All the petty arguments that I never won

I miss it all, desperately
And most of all I know with certainty

I miss your green eyes with specs of amber
That burnt into me while I downed shots of coconut liquor

We were fifteen
Writing stories in our skin with long nails and steak knives
Girls in my friend group would starve themselves for fun
My girlfriend used to tell me that she overdosed
Just to see how I would react

Sometimes I’m surprised we’re all still living
Maybe not alive but not dead either
I still spend most of my nights crying
Growing up is funny like that

At twenty I question how any of us made it through highschool
My old friends survive off of little pink pills and Smirnoff
You could drink ***** out of their collar bones
I can see the sadness in their bones, visible through translucent skin
How were we better off at fifteen

I still can’t smell blood without wanting to throw up
Jagged skin makes me nostalgic for a love I never should’ve had
Whenever I see a tombstone I think of him

At seventeen a teacher asked what I wanted to be
How badly I wanted to say happy
I never imagined I’d make it past eighteen

I once thought there wasn't any life outside of this town,
but I was okay with that because it had everything I needed.
But what do I know?
We are all so young,
running through parks,
climbing up mountaintops.
Strolling past all the shops
and driving around this town going nowhere in particular,
I thought that it simply could not get better than this.

We loved each other like the stars
I thought that nothing could separate us.
We were sure to last,
but little did we know
that all these days will belong to the past,
and everything that we always did
now live on pages on thousands of papers
and in pictures tucked away in a box of old things.

Happiness was in the air that day
when we all were together once again.
The moon shined bright that night,
lighting the path that we once drove down every day.
This city just seems so small now that I have broken all its walls.

I drive past all the places we left marks on in this city.
The now vacant houses that once held so many memories,
the lunch table where our love blossomed,
the midnight drives to the movies,
getting excited over slushies,
and the lakes we learned to float.
I look back on all these places
and think about all the things we ever did,
I simply thought that it could not get any better than this.

Setting the new year on fire.
Dancing to the sounds of Grease.
Picking peaches in celebration of spring.
Watching all the bands we ever loved.
I would forget all my stress and worries thinking about it all.
Can it get any better than this?
                                                                  
I want to thank this town for all the stories I wrote.
All the times we felt like children.
All the times we rose with the sun.
All the times I felt loved by all the people that were my stars.

As I'm driving through this town and watch it grow smaller in my eyes,
I imagine a time when I was not alone.
I know getting older can seem quite strange at times,
but what do I know?
All I know is that there is just so much to see,
and sometimes the grass isn't always green as it used to be.
But as long as I have these memories,
it couldn't get any better than this.

You are autumn.
Chilly outside, but inside, you are warm.
Being around you is like being curled up indoors with a book,
Wrapped in your own universe. Maybe some hot cocoa, a little sugar.
Maybe tea, bittersweet and rich with thought.
You are colours bursting with life,
Blazing reds and yellows against a brilliant blue sky.

You are serien.
Peace.
You are the leaves that crunch,
when you step on them.
You are the smell on August chilly mornings
That melts into a sunshine filled paradise.

You are autumn.

You are also winter.
Frostbitten on the outside in a facade of cold,
Bitterness that has built up through the year.
But underneath all that you are clear, starry skies.
You illuminate things when it is least expected.

Underneath the cold you bring warmth
Comfort and shelter from the raging storms outside.

You are waking up curled in blankets on a bed
That calls for you as you try to wake.

You are a hug when it feels like nothing is going right.

You are winter
You are fall

I wish you were mine.

Find me across the room,
I am the silent morning.
I've known your name for centuries,
but mines still just a foreign language to you.
My tongue is tied
and you're lost in translation,
But that's just how these things will remain.
My body sings every time
because your smile is like a melody.
You light me up
shining brighter than the moon and stars.
I'll follow your voice to the beginning of our first hellos.
You're a perfect afternoon.
We could sing away evenings with the radio.
Drive to places only we would know
where there would be nobody but you and me.
So please won't you come talk to me
because you see my words are lost
and my knees are shaking like trees in the wind.
I hope it doesn't come as a surprise that you light up the room.
Every time I see you I hold my breath
and my mind goes blank.
So I suppose I'll just always be on the other side of the room,
loving you from afar.