do I still haunt the
                    air
at that house? do you see me
stretched out on the floor
in front of that coffee
table you built,
does my laugh echo out
from the
bedroom, do you smell
my shampoo on that one
white blanket I loved so
much, do you hear me
softly
whisper "hey" when you
walk past the studio, do
you go around the place I
stood in the middle of the
kitchen on the Fourth of
July and accidentally



dropped

my lemonade on
the carpet? does
                                    anything
remind you of me?

i cant call this love
i know its... sort of complicated.
i can tell that it is for you.
one second you say im young
then the next you call me beautiful?
maybe i just take things in the wrong context.
but those blue eyes of yours really get me
and that silly smile you have on your face... god...
i just... i dont know. id never trespass your comfort zone
but i just keep thinking of the embraces we shared
and that kiss on the top of my head
i want you to remember me and love me
and maybe just turning that kiss from the top of my head
to down to my lips, and to love every second of it.
just once, please, one day let me lean in and
taste a real mans lips.

I push you because I love you,
because I have faith that you will get better.
See, I cannot save you.
I can only be there to witness the saving of yourself.
And I told myself, even if this makes her hate me,
Even if she begins to resent my pleads turned demands,
I would be fine with that.
I will bear the internal wounds if it means you will not deprive yourself.

But the first time you told me,
"Sometimes I really want to tell you to shut up"
All I said was,
"I know. But I'll take it."
But inside I felt the smallest of rips in my heart.
This will not **** me, I thought,
It will merely tear me apart.

my throat is a forest fire,
a burning map that never leads to
'the depths of virginia'

your hands are made of water,
icy cold and haunting and
I don't know what else to say except
"please"

I sometimes think that we should have a history book
rewritten with our names, because I'll be ******* if
we are not rewarded for the way we forget about our past

I WONDER IF WHAT WE TALK ABOUT AFTER MIDNIGHT
HAS ANY IMPACT ON THE WAY YOUR HEART BEATS AND IF
IT DOES IS IT WATERED DOWN BECAUSE OF BEFORE
AND I WANT TO KNOW IF MY WORDS HAVE THE SAME
EFFECT ON YOU AS YOURS ON ME AND I WANT TO SWIM
in the James River and forget how to sway my limbs around to float

this is not a love poem
this is not an "I miss you, come back" poem
this is a confession
this is a love letter
written on the palms of my hands because I know
you'll never get over how badly they shake

maybe I'm confused or lovesick or homesick
for a home that can only be found inside of warm chests
but I needed to write this for someone, for myself

maybe my questions don't need answers,
maybe they just need to be heard.

Love at first sight
Wasn't for me
Until it was