I’m not sure what got me more—
the denial or the apathy,
when you said,
“That’s just you
being a lazy teenager,”
or when she said,
“Okay.
If you really wanna pay for it.”

Anticlimactic moments
but after working up to it,
should I have
expected anything differently?
After all the angst
and the put on confidence,
it just resulted in that,
and now I’ll go see
if there’s relief
to be found in a professional.

I have a million crushes—
and I think, deep down, it’s because
I’ve already accepted that not one of them
is ever going to like me back.
Somewhere along the line of
advocating for how fine I was,
how okay I was with being alone,
because I knew that I wasn’t, really,
I forgot that I’m still just one sappy
romantic, one soft heart hidden away,
one achey soul who loves to love.
I love loving people so much, and I just
want someone to love me back that much.

stomach full of lead
anticipating and ready
and scared

i want to see you again
but what if you hate me
or have forgotten your affection

i’m going home
or i’m leaving it
or it’s being swept out from under me

i’ve missed you

When I asked you what song reminded you of me,
you sent me one about a love curse—
about loving someone dearly and missing them,
and when I messaged you some joke about it,
not about the love curse but about the language,
wanting to clarify but not wanting to be direct,
you responded in what almost looked like nerves.
Neither of us brought up the love curse,
but you didn’t say anyone else made you think of a love song;
am I reading too much into it?

i want to be good enough
that other parents are impressed,
and i want to bring honor to you:
i want others to think highly of you.
i’m addicted to the feeling i get
when you say, “they were impressed by you.”
i want to be good enough
for you.

Braid the broken strands ‘till it’s like they’re meant to be there,
hold yourself together like you never fell apart—
rip at all your seams ‘cause you hate feeling fragile,
rather be a broken bone than a spindly work of art.

The sea needs no sirens to tempt me,
but I’d love to hear one—
it’d be an easy explanation
for the disappearance I’m craving.