There is a ghost in your voice
Haunting me through the silence



Through every droplet of memory
Dotting my otherwise starless night

I tried to gather them
With my words, my fear, my soul
And yet they remain forever bond
To a place I cannot reach
A being I cannot see
And a love I can never hear

Your flowering existence sheds invisible petals
I seem to be able to find
Yet, I'm ever uncertain
All these pieces of your soul
Did you left them for me to find
A breadcrumb trail leading only
To a chance in the future
To an uncertain promise
Or did I just stole the traces
Of your existence you left for the universe
Claiming them as something I could own

Should I keep them or scatter them

Or are they even yours
Could it be that they are the pieces of my soul
Still clinging on to you
That you're finally shedding away
To be complete on your own

What could I do
Standing in pieces
Holding someone's soul
That may or may not be my own
If they weren't
I'd still be missing all the chunks I've given to you
If they were
I'd still be empty
Because
I'm forever hollow without you

what would i be if not for you?
i’d be alone, wandering, lovely,
but c’mon i heard your voice,
and suddenly how could i not love you?
we laugh about our stories, we laugh about their stories.
and suddenly i want to make our own.

that night, it got late, and i didn’t want to go home.
the music we were playing, i imagine you singing my words,
and staying lost in this beautiful place with you.

everything, i pretend it’s all about someone else, you think it’s all about someone else,
but everything you say falls into my next poem.
that night we watched stars. the time i told you we should do something together.
and it’s true, i’m afraid of falling for you,
but i’m even more afraid i’m not.

and when i hear your voice, it’s nostalgic, because today i have these memories
-when we didn’t know anything, when all we had was stories,
when we believe in epics and magic and hated real life,
when we were a fantasy, and now we’re a reality,
and i’m nostalgic about our old nostalgia.

i’m also afraid we’ll be just like them,
and i’ll hear another voice, and i’ll be happy, because for a second, i think it’s you,
and then i’ll remember. see?
i’m good at making this about them, because it is about them,
but really i’m hoping you’ll ask me one day, and i’ll say yes to you.
and that night, the night will grow late and we’ll lay down together and just stare upwards.

hey moon -you know that lyrics, don’t you sweetheart, oh god,
what if i said too much?
i’m so afraid you’ll never talk to me again,
but if i love you, this will all be worth it sometime soon.
and pay attention -there’s a line for you and here it is:
everything i’ve written has started to sound like you, and i’m dangerously close to falling off the knife’s edge of my feelings.
and pay attention -because there are lines for you in every poem.

i can hear them now -those sirens, those bells,
and all the girls in our uniforms, hollow and brave,
and how we sometimes feel so alive, and sometimes so, so tired,
those ones who ask questions, and the ones who just leave,
and we’re both of those and we’re so brave,
and i think our eardrums are going to break.

every night, pick me up and we’ll go home,
but oh wait sweetheart, we can’t because we’re so young and so ******* busy.
like i said -i’m dying but i’ve never felt more alive, more happy,
or more tired. life has never been like this
-and i love these dreams, because right now they're blowing my way
did i also mention i love you?
i love you.

you know, you know, each hug is fragile,
broken glass shattering and putting itself back and becoming beautiful,
and thats me. you’re all soft words, and eyes like mine but all the more cunning,
but you’re braver than you know, and you’re a mystery.
and with every touch, i think of what would happen if we were hungrier,
that maybe, if we were hungrier we’d solve that mystery,
or i’d solve you.

always, always so worried. too worried to make a masterpiece,
but somehow you say i’ve made masterpieces of words, and i’m waiting for yours,
but i think you’re unlucky, because even though i’m so afraid of my muses,
they drive my hands, my brushes, my pens, these things that make you softly open your mouth,
and oh how i want to trace those lips. i wonder if you want to trace some other girl’s lips.
because there is no way you love me the way i might love you.
if i love you. i’m so lost in this.

more than anything, i think, i’d want something for myself.
so many muses, so many friendships, so many lovely people,
but yet all i want is only another kind of love. your kind. because you know what we could be?
every night, i’m trying to spend more and more time with you.
and if we were ever next to each other, i’d like to hold hands and gaze at the stars with you.
oh no -i’ve said too much. i wish with all my heart (futilely?) that you know who you are,
please tell me.

and these sirens keep sounding in my head, and i’m wondering if i’m losing my life,
because we should have each other, at those games, with those hollow brave girls,
with those dancers, and alone to dance to our own songs, and in our words.
we’d write each other, or perhaps you’d draw me, i’ve always wanted that.
anyway, this is just another schoolgirl’s dream becaue she should be focusing
-but she knows she needs something to do other than focus, someone to love,
and right now, it’s you.

somehow, right now,
it’s winter and i’m wrapped in your embrace.
somehow, it’s winter and we’re all wearing brown,
sitting on soft couches and listening,
pretending we’re oh so smart,
when really?
we’re oh,
so
young.

and all our hearts, they’re strewn across the floor,
all our work is forgotten,
as we kiss and touch and watch the snow fall,
and sit down to dinner,
where we slow dance -in the living room,
then wrap our arms around each other,
repeat the same songs on some ancient tape player.

those slow drumbeats, the soft jazz notes,
the growing thrum of this cursed city
-the one we danced to? sank into the sheets with?
this, this is where we got lost in us.
with the snowfall outside and, who would have noticed
that we smell like something other than fall candles.

i grin, and we grab our things off the floor,
and laugh it off. somehow, we know this place,
it’ll always be our home. after all,
sweaters cover our marks in a way sun-clothes can’t,
don’t they darling?

now, soft skin, pearlescent,
seems like some sort of luxury, a wish made during yule,
something i can only share with you,
because truly, i don’t think i’d want to share this cold place,
unless they were you.

and as we waltz to slow music, as we plan, as we laugh,
as we sit down in the candles,
i think i’m falling all over again,
because your eyes look hodded in the light,
your skin inviting, your mouth soft,
and your smile makes me wish you’d swallow me whole.

i dream of us,
me,
and you.

i’m a poet (?), and i have a voice,
and sometimes i think you want that voice
-ridiculous, because your voice is captivating, alluring, angelic.

but it could be true,
and it could be true you like my voice?
i dream.

and i imagine us wearing jackets,
looking beautiful and confident,
arms wrapped around us and forehead kisses.

girls at football games, girls at dances,
twirling you around,
burying my face in your neck and inhaling.

we could be beautiful.
we could be teen love, and teen heartbreak,
teen queens. teen goddesses.

and every night, i could want you,
but only if you wanted me back,
strong like me.

and we could be a secret,
hiding behind friendship,
and friends who love kisses and holding hands.

swetheart, i could call you that, right?
sweetheart, we can be whatever you want us to be,
and i’d be so lucky to be your friend.

but see those girls
-those could be us,
if you just told me.

you could kiss my neck,
whisper or confess,
or surge forward. i’d welcome you.

please,
please,
tell me.

whoever you are.