I learned of a love for treehouses,
And 8 mile.
Both the Detroit and Farmington sides.
I gave up deepthroating and cigarettes for New Years.
I developed an attachment to bridges.
Morrison, Hawthorne, Burnside, Steel, Tilikum
All pacing my afternoon runs.
My favorite thing about traveling is coming home at the end.
I met another soul mate, one I don’t kiss.
We read our poems between English classes,
Scrounge up quarters for midnight subway runs,
Bond over an old love of car rides and vampire weekend.
Life is excruciatingly painful,
And as your best friend I’ll let you know
“I only smoke **** with you, on tuesday evenings.”
(“And I only cry in public bathrooms at noon.”)
I learned home is where the heart is,
And my heart is always with my mother
I inked our love onto my skin in June.
I know now, that ******* is less scary and more of a sad college kid thing.
(But ****** is just as scary as it seems on TV.)
I met the pigeon man on 6th and Yamhill,
Swarmed by hundreds of grey flying rats
Kissing each one on the head before setting them back down.
I finally lost my father.
It didn't hurt half as badly as I imagined it to.
I invited too many girls to stay the night.
And one too many boys.
But I never regret holding you all close because friendship is ******’ magic.
Thank you my little pony.
I learned no, you can't flush toilet paper in Asia
And yes, elephants are incredible.
That spinning on a pole makes you an artist before anything else.
That embarrassment is worth it.
That therapy is worth it only sometimes.
I learned a language where I can finally be quiet.
In pop music
And fried food.
My body is a temple that can handle some mac and cheese.
And beauty is much more loving your current state than anything else.
I love my current state.
Rain, and no sales tax,
and a candlelit home.