it’s time to write our story,
because today feels like the first chapter.
today, i am determined to begin filling a book,
because our first chapter will look like hope.

the air was cool today, but when you breathed it out,
it came out smelling like the sweet fruits of summer,
sounding like soft waves sounding somewhere,
cautious feet barely touching the water.

i don’t know if you’ll take my hand tonight,
at the beach when i invite you into the water,
will you allow yourself to drown in it,
let the mermaids voices lull you into love?

do you think i could lull you into love
-i’m not a mermaid exactly,
but i could let you put flowers in my hair,
and make me like those beautiful angels of the sea.

please, please fall in love.
i like you, but that’s nowhere near enough,
i need to fall in love with
me.

can your heart-rate rise a little,
can your hands make my pulse flutter a little?
do you want to feel my heart rise,
soaring on soft dove wings for you?

you’re very kind (and you text me a lot),
so would be so kind,
as to fall in love?

Every day after school I ran through it,
Skirting around the trunks,
Ducking under the leaves,
My laughter echoing through the trees.
My cherry orchard.
My friends used to walk through it,
And when they got to my house,
They would always have red stains
On the bottoms of their shoes from
My cherry orchard.
Every year when the blossoms came out
In early May, I would take pictures for
Hours, enjoying the peace,
Playing with the symmetry when you looked down a row in
My cherry orchard.
And even though the trees were
Stripped from the ground and burned
I still visit it,
My friends still walk through it,
And every year I will look back at
My pictures and remember
My cherry orchard.

light scatters—my rain-spattered
windshield, dark roads below darker skies

praying our problems might align
that we may patch the cracks in our lives

I saw you in the moonlight, caustic
smile caught by 2am drives

I knew you would be the telephone pole
with which my car collides

i should be listening to music,
while writing love poems.
but i’m busy,
and all i can manage is a short little note,
about something else.

my mind feels like clean paper today,
fresh and beautiful.
it’s been filled with the brightest colors
-someone telling me i’m beautiful,
loved.
someone loving my words,
someone whispering promises of heaven in a song.

it’s been filled with bright-eyed questions,
running,
but always feeling oh so very right.
i feel oh so very right.

i ignore this small twinge in my gut,
my life is going so well,
that i do not doubt.
but i ignore that small twinge in gut,
when someone said i could be cured.

their face appears everywhere,
and their face is my mother’s inspiration.
does she think i can be cured?

i am the perfect daughter.
i study, i volunteer.
i am happy, i am kind.
i am in clubs. i am good with my friends,
reasonable and responsible.
but there’s a blight she doesn’t know -a blight that is not a disease.
but when your inspiration tells you so, would you dismiss it as an interesting view?
would you believe it if you knew my blight? or would you forget?

i, i can only describe my blight as bright.
i have been told i light, like every color in the world.
for once, i feel right.
i may not fit in, but i know the lines on which i walk.
or i know how to walk.

because you told me, to hear someone who said i was bright.
because you have always supported what i am.

am i making something out of nothing?
there are so many of them,
and they are all so beautiful.

there is the girl who i was smitten with for one night,
who can not be mine.
but she was pretty.

another, who shows me her voice,
one worthy of angels
-my greatest mystery.

yet, there is another,
she was likes them the way i do,
but she isn’t the one.

and i barely know her -lovely number four,
but what does a meaningful look, a hand on the shoulder,
you should stay, mean?

and you, angel girl
do you plan on this one day,
when you boldly told me that we’d live when we were in school together?

number four, do you even like girls?
the people i’m with when i’m with you,
they sure wouldn’t like the idea that i like girls. you?

what does getting to know you mean?
what does it mean when you seek me out in conversation?
what does it mean when i look so hard for someone to fall for?

does it mean me wonder why you don’t text so often
-is it not a thing you do?
or perhaps do you love to show me this when you can see my face?

i’m talking to you number two.
just saying.
by the way, we could watch these films together, they’re cute.

as you say, you’re not looking for something,
but you’ll let whatever happens happen.
what if i happened. hypothetically?

is it too much to ask for someone look at me,
and realize why i have bags under my eyes?
to see tears glistening like diamonds,
on the richest crown?

is it too much to ask for someone to listen,
as i allow my words to flow, as i say them,
and just hold my hand and understand?

is it too much to ask that i know my sadness
-that i know i did the right thing?
then, why, do i feel like i’ve given up a dream?
because that isn’t true.

is it too much to ask to come back,
allow myself to just come back,
say hello,
see again what i miss?

is it too much to ask for content,
that feeling of happiness and fulfillment that i had once?

is it too much to ask for love,
for some beautiful person to notice me,
some person i love in that way
-because i feel many eyes watching and none have made a move.

is it too much to ask,
that someone wish they could fix my problems all at once,
that someone other than my friends loved me,
wholly?

is it too much to ask the stars to glitter like they used to,
bright, and promising, tantalizing, inviting me to see them one day?
they seem dull, as if they’ve turned away,
as if i’ve given up on them.