I want to lie

but really, I  miss that first year
the way you held me with adoration and curiousity
call me selfish but those moments
where you put everything into showing me how you felt
I miss the smiles we both held
when we didn’t know better

the laughter and kisses and god the innocence in it all

I revisit those days
like a loved book
stained and loved and torn
still a little warm from the last time I held it

pretending like those chapters
Were all those characters ever knew

sometimes I worry I’ll be forgotten
but then I realize
I am an amalgamation of all the people I’ve met
that I can’t not look at chop sticks without thinking of that sushi date
or peanut butter without thinking of his spoon
that I say bother because of my best friend
and can hear him ask me what’s next

and I no longer have to worry as much
because if I can hold as much of the many with some names that have lost their vowels
but still hold the feeling

I’ll be just fine

Being remembered in little moments
of laughter
and maybe even tears
till they are gone too

occasionally
(mostly in the dead of night)
i remember her telling me
—-
i could hear him shaking his head, because of all the things to do
taking shots in the final words
is really the best way to make sure she never opens that door
—-
so,  occasionally
I’m reminded of all the moments shots were taken
so I roll over again
maybe journal in a poem
and pretend
(occasionally)

he called me something pretty
as he slithered round my ankles
rattling along my bones
trying to constrict closer
and when I said that was too tight
well
he called me something not so pretty

it's the devils handiwork after all

some nights I wonder
in the space between the stars
and popcorn ceilings

if you are thinking of me

if we both reached out at the same time,
to roll over
and pretend
we don’t know
how right it felt

but I guess it doesn’t matter
at 2:39
as I remember the comfort
that seeped into my bones
the second I felt you lay down with me

but I guess it doesn’t matter
if you’re thinking of me
anyways

god were you made for me
I’ve heard that too many times
am I just to be passed around
till I break in someone’s hands?
a china doll
no longer in use

do you ever get sick of hearing
“I’ve never met anyone like you”
the way it rolls off their tongue
Like quarters in a roll
because
“I haven’t laughed like that with anyone in so long”
and I have to wonder
Why it feels no different to me
than an average
really no different
Tuesday