I am in the market
for making mistakes
and you check all the boxes

when people ask me
how i am
why do i think of you?

to be honest
if we stopped talking today
it wouldn’t be the talking i’d miss
although the conversations left me
hopeful
smiling
curious
it’s the moments of not talking
the kisses
the lack of air
the desire for more
that I find myself consumed with

I don’t know whether to be
thankful that it happened
or frustrated with the lack of assurance
that it will happen again (and again)
because now I’ve had a taste
of you
of your hands on my hands,
my back, my neck, my hair
feeling
wanting
holding
I find myself wishing
we could **** time together
by not talking some more

It’s hard for it not to feel personal,
because it is.

When someone leaves you,
regardless of the **** they’ve got going on
and who they are as a person,

if they drop you or leave you,
remove you from their life,
it is personal.

How can it not be?

backs tell a lot of stories
and I think that's why they’re my favourite feature
they’ve witnessed the aftermath of walking away

felt shoulder kisses,
when someone’s hand rests gently in the middle
absentmindedly or purposefully

felt tickles and hands on a mission
kneading and massaging
felt embraces and weathered storms

they are quietly powerful - worthy of endless praise
but expectant of none
and that is something, isn't it

how do you say to someone,

I have a fat middle school crush on you. And I also want to kiss your face.

sometimes people sneak up on you
I always thought the best loves were immediate,
you’d know instantly,
because that happened once,
and it’s hard not to compare,

until you realize that he’s been there all along,
and you think,
“Oh. There you are.”

and you can’t breathe just right,
or think coherent thoughts,
except ones about him and him and you

my insides feel like an angry butterfly storm
I am hopeless yet I’m the happiest I’ve been in months
how can that be?
how does none of this make any sense but be so clear?

I can’t look him in the eye
I feel like I’m in middle school again
14, but without the excessive insecurities
my heart feels like its going to burst

it kinda makes me want to kick myself
for taking so long to realize
what you could mean to me
what you mean to be now