As you reach a mountain’s peak, your weight slightly decreases as you get further and further away from the Earth’s core and gravity loosens its hold ever so slightly. If you have ever felt this tiny change in more than a physical sense, then this is for you.

This is for train tracks and box cars, this is for every road we planned to trip but never departed, this is for the difference between August and October and the first snowflake on my sister’s freckles a whole week before Halloween.

Because nothing is as sturdy as uncertainty. Nothing is more constant than the ever changing blues right before dusk in the summertime, where the deepest blue is just over your head. It’s the untruth of the moving target and the integrity of the unlocked window and driving through mountains during a snowstorm on Christmas morning to be home in time for my brother’s favorite joke, but I take the turn too quickly and spin my mother’s car into the woods.

Because I can only trust something viscous and permeable, and there’s this moment when you first see someone push their hair out of their eyes, or take off their glasses that is so identifiably human that I can’t get it out of my head.

The arrangement of my mother’s garden isn’t one I remember because I want to. I remember it because it held her hands when I couldn’t and the hockey game on the car radio wasn’t important because my father said it was a playoff game, but because it was a place we could exchange our thin ice for someone else’s.

This paralysis of analysis lives in the heart of transitional phrases.

quiet boy stepped into my looking glass and handed me his helmet
years past until i noticed his long graceful hands in my hair
and i turned to see where he had come from

it was just past nine when i took the zucchini out of the oven and waited
it was half past ten by the time he rang the bell
and i sat nervous and shallow

he gets lost in his own world and finds his hands in mine
we stepped back from our maps and abandoned our ships
i sank in with the anchors

it was just last night when i realized i could love you
it was three junes since i first wanted to
i kissed you in the nighttime.

the mice in my ears

the ink stain on my left arm

tell me to listen

I wasn’t ready for your sky-eyed nostalgia any more than I was ready for my suffragette seclusion.

I couldn’t have swallowed any more of my snake bitten hollow intellect than that which allowed me to kiss your throat to the stars skin.

So I’m hoping the ochre-rayed sun moon stars rain clock parts will aid in the time that can make things like they were in the gazebo with the puddles stuck in my shoes and your hat already full of thoughts.

And then can we spin around again?

I put dates on my wanting to remember my tactile experience at the expense of my memory

"that’s very meta, isn’t it?"

alternation

sublimation

consecration

They have spent their hours wanting for a moment

and They have spent their moments wanting for the hours

I’m weeding through my bedside manner

because I thought the dull thudding of bass line wasn’t just my heart anymore

I met a boy who could see his heart through his chest

and and and

the women on the bench moved anyway

they asked what i was drawing

and the woman’s tattoo looked like adventure

but her face looked like she had spent too much time waiting

and and and

my feet don’t touch the ground

but my soul does.

i ask you to be patient

there are still cracks between my ribcage
i am trying to fix
and i am still searching for ways to mend
my broken, tattered wings

there are parts of me like missing puzzle pieces
i'm still trying to find
and i own many things, yet if there's one thing
i do not own, that would be time

again, i must ask you to be patient

at times my head is a storm of emotions;
thunder and lightning are all i hear
at times i will play a game of hide and seek
yet it's not you i hide from but my fears

i'm the girl who wears her heart on her sleeves
yet i hide behind closed doors
the kind who smiles bright like fire
though she crumbles in ashes to the floor

once more, please be patient

wait; i promise you'll see the masterpiece i am
for i am of many dimensions
and through my eyes, you will see
my thoughts as the stars made into constellations

i am the galaxy, and i am infinite
a firework, a work of art
all i ask is for you to be patient and stay
to see past the pain darkening my heart

i waited, so patiently
for that kiss
one brush against my lips
and feel yours softly
for a moment
just an instant
i needed it awfully

it was a promise
that our rings
and those vows
wouldn't lay to remiss
through burdens
by struggles
we will get through this

oh, how i miss
your comfort
in just one kiss...

If you love someone
And they feel they must go
For sorting out their life or whatever they must do
Let them go
And then pray they'll come back to you.

Be patient
Be kind
In the hardest of times
Try to understand
And always be a friend.

If they don't come back
It wasn't meant to be, I guess
But always keep faith and hope
In your heart
That the best shall be.