Under moonlight but half full
Above the place to meet silken tranquility
Hearts are swollen
Mind in heaven
Focus the gaze

Under the clock hand half over
Above the dream-seeing destination
Devious poetic words and subtle intrigue shed
I miss you a lot tonight, my mind is locked on yours.
I wish it was my lips.

Sitting on his bed
Lusting over each other for about an hour
He looks at me and says “you’re beautiful”
He really means it.
Sounds so sure of himself.
It’s hard not to believe him.

He touches my hair with his fingertips and pulls out a curl, laughing.
“What are you laughing at?”
He pulls my curl, and lets it go
Only so it can wind itself back up into its previous bouncy formation.

“That’s so adorable, I'm melting.”
“Wow, I love you so much”

One
I wrote you a love letter
Hid it in your binder at recess
And prayed you'd never know it was from me.
It hurt when you called it silly.

Two
You're behind bars because of me
I don't feel guilty
Because you tried to take my innocence.

Three
You were the one I'd spend eternity with
When I was in 8th grade.

Four
I never thought I'd love a girl
You had soft hair and lips
But I always confused envy and lust.

Five
You didn't understand my metaphors
Or the things that interested me.
I just didn't understand why you did so many drugs.

Six
Please tell me you'd like to see me again
I had a beautiful night with you
And I'm a sucker for boys who write and play guitar.

Seven
You are so handsome and you are so dull.

Eight
I'll always want you
But the butterflies that used to flutter in my heart
Are now eating it apart.

I am in love with a boy who I hardly know.
He has dark eyes and dark hair
I romanticize that his features are metaphorical
For his black and lonely life.

He's an enigma
He's bad and I'm intrigued.
He's untouchable
Completely out of reach.

I'm in a romance with a boy
A one-sided love
Wondering
Or curiosity

I was born, raised and cultivated by my favourite books.
As my eyes rolled along paper and ink
My mind traced each curve of each letter
Fingers move to turn the page
Seeing who I will become next.

I am nothing but these words I've read.
I am a collage of paper trees and paper dolls
Photocopies of human beings
Who are photocopies of other human beings.

I am nothing but what the commercials want me to be.
I can't think outside of this television-shaped box
Suffocating ideologies of powerful men in business suits
I crave their orders in order to get by.

I was born, raised and cultivated by my favourite books
And I wonder if this is how I am supposed to be.

Do you remember the letters you wrote me?
Messy handwriting scribbling out love onto the paper
Crinkled in spots where your tears had fell
Because we'd cry when we were happy.

Do you remember the rocky dock near the water?
We'd been there two times for the same reason
The start and the end of our relationship
You shaking out of anger
Towards whoever would dare to hurt me.

Do you remember our love?
Me running up to the car each day
Almost as if I hadn't seen you the last.
Driving until we couldn't see anything except
Those high-beams you'd complain about.

Do I still haunt you?
Run into my ghost everywhere in this small town
Make you regret slamming the door in my face
Hiding behind walls with the next thing that showed you compassion

Did your pillows still smell like my hair even after she left?
Tell her stories but they're a carbon copy
She's impressed by your vocabulary
Finally found someone smart


Do you kiss her harder to forget my name?
Forget that I'm the reason her lips are pressed onto yours
Forget that you told me it was the hardest thing you ever had to do
Saying goodbye before you got on that plane
Without kissing my face

There he was- the object of my affection.
He said each word as if it was carefully picked
Eloquently placed into a beautiful handwritten love letter.  

He had come from a past era, it was evident in the way he moved.
Each physical characteristic was beautiful and shocking
It’s hard to move away from this magnetic being.

I try to be pretty and feminine because that’s what boys like him would want
Every stitch, carefully picked out and examined
Every disproportionate feeling, hidden with my idea of perfect contentment
Every hopeful glance from another leaving my eyes greener than I had originally thought.

I didn’t know him well in the summer
I only knew of the charm and the grace that he had given
Our truck rides and the faded Polaroid colours

He didn’t look at me like teenage boys look at their teenage girlfriends.
With a soft gaze and slightly parted lips
He was silently telling me that he’d do anything for me
That I was dream and that he was a dreamer
And that my happiness was completely his.
He silently told me that we were in love
And I believed him.