hi i'm zee. i'm 17 years old as of the moment i'm writing this to you.
i have met numerous boys until i met you. used them as substitutes as to what it would feel like to be finally with you.
i hate feeling like a burden so i tend to bottle up my feelings and sometimes i eventually explode.
i like the rain. i like how nature reminds me that it's normal to feel sad and to cry.
i like sunsets more than i like the sunrises. i like how the sun setting tells me that even the most important things in life get tired and
needs rest so i should too.

i'm unsure about what i like. but i'm pretty sure about you.
i have nights where i question myself what's taking you so long to finally get to me? are you even coming?
--- i have thought about giving up in love and how i don't need it. how i can live without you.
i haven't met you but god, you're always in my mind.

i'm needy, remind me everyday why you chose me. remind me that you love me because i am unsure if you do.
i have nights where i imagined you holding me, so when you do get to hold me please never let go.

i hope you'll never let me go, never let me write another letter like this.

i have incredibly bad writer's block i could go on months of not writing anything
but i can never continue my day without saying a word to you.

hi i'm zee, again. i'm not sure how old i am now that you finally get to read this.
i don't know if i'm still all the things i wrote. but i'm still sure of you.

halo, halo
flooded by musky greens
that wipe out the bitterness
to your taste
hands tight on my waste
and lifting me
to sit on a shredded pillow
the window open
the walls damp
the chill once again comforts me
embracing an icy touch
you cut my hair
a head of bleach falls to the floor
my black roots remain
fragile breaths come from the trees
awakening once more
creeping their branches into the room
creeping under my tunic
the sky clears and I am soft
the pillow empties of its feathers
removing the inside
releasing the weight

“AHHHH!”
It softly responds, “No need to yell.”

It is hard to write about something you are always so full of
Constantly overflowing with that you can barely see the brim of the bowl anymore
from how often it has disappeared beneath the ebbing ocean
Sometimes they come so fast you don’t have time to decipher the foam

My heart has been held softly between two safe palms for over a year now
There have been times it has been caressed so carefully
I can’t tell the difference between skipping beats and catching breath

When its edges have fit perfectly into grooves eroded over time
for ten fingerprints that can’t be replicated
Codes we constructed together
and secret knocks only the hands of our internal clocks can count the rhythms of

There have been times they have squeezed a little too hard to tell
Accidentally scraped the surface without intending to
Followed by however much body heat is necessary to help the healing
With extra to spare in case of emergencies

Reality can’t keep the roses red every time winter comes to visit

But it has painted my laugh lines permanent
And keeps my dimples occupied

He knows the mechanics of my face word for word
he can read my heavies in a microcosmic glance
before they even get the chance to bite my tongue to stop me spilling

I am comfy in his loud and in his quiet
I am warm in his laugh
Soft in his smile
Giving back comes so easy when the receiving end is often mine

Falling further every day has made me best friends with gravity
And soulmates with the years ahead waving from a distance

Full of arms wide open
And two mouthfuls of laughter

1:19am again

spine curls into a question mark
hands sing sonatas of symbols
while head keeps track of seconds passed
and days lost

toes tuck absent-mindedly into socks
shy and scared of being sought
for hiding in such a place
their secret hideaway in sleep

hearts still thumping
says goodnight to bloodstreams
with quiet pulsing kisses

bathes the rest of body
in thin coats of keep steady

ready to deliver dreams
fated to their impermanence

fondly remember your grandmother's house
as I share with you mine

a pantry, tall as a mountain when I was six.
a forbidden box of sugar cubes that was never really off limits
cookies, warm and soft. how does she always have them?
sitting in the rocking chair, toes miles away from the floors
strange stories you hope aren't true
ice cubes made of lemonade
an afternoon refresher
a sunday spent at home, at your grandma's house

always drawing and painting
playing in the yard
her cats in your lap, warm and fuzzy
she braids your hair with her wise, experienced hands
does she always smell like lavender?
gumdrops and hard candies
playing dominoes on the floor
there's nowhere else I'd rather be
than at home
at my grandma's house

His hands were so soft,
I never thought I’d be able to hold them.
His eyes were so sweet,
they were captivating like a bright gem.
His smile was so tired,
it was one of the fakest smiles ever.
He’s so out of reach,
but my time with him felt like forever.