Are you my springtime,
Here to drive away the cold hands
That envelop my heart?
Warm the earth
So I can blossom.
I promise this time
I will grow towards the sun.

"plan a" was to be cordial:
you said, "coexist."
we toasted with our cappuccinos,
"to coexisting," before replacing our masks.
smile. wave. be polite.
I suppose some dozen missteps by me rendered this plan
useless.

"plan b" is much harder.
put your hand on the table.
the knife comes down, quick,
press the hot metal to the wound.

amputate. cauterize.
use your friends as a tourniquet,
like the one I've been twisting you into for the last year
and a half.

Pray for me;
The Midwest is freezing.
I don’t understand it but I do occasionally fold my hands
And pray but usually I get
Distracted.
I pretend to be as distant as I can
But I’m actually pretty invested.
People tend to see through all that. Through me.
It’s all an act to disguise how stupid I am and how desperate
I am for attention.
But for all the times people see through me it’s crazy
How little I can see of other people and much I read into others
Actions. I’m so obsessed with touching tasting feeling
And I always **** it up.

talking to you is like running
though a maze I've memorized and
I know most of the twists and turns.
there are only a few corners I haven't
ventured to explore.
adding a glass of wine or two drops
new walls to that maze, and as I try to speak
I hit barriers I hadn't ever encountered before
you accuse me, "whenever we talk I just talk at you."
I bite my tongue and hope for blood or something warm to fill my lungs.

I want to watch you
eat apples, and drink wine,
because I like the way you do things:
your "hows".
I want to be the synapses in your brain
when you dance,
and when you speak in your polite diction.
I wonder what those synapses do
when I look up and catch you
staring at me.

i cant remember at all if it was the gin
or just the smell of winter
that filled the room.
i can't remember if it was the ***** or the fire
that made me feel so warm.
but i remember was you
touching my face
hand on my hip
lips so close but a year of arguments and
one month of boyfriend away from mine.
i can't remember if in the split second i said yes,
did i trust you? or could i just not say no to
your bottom lip which always pouts
just a little
bit.

i never thought that i
would be the first one to grow up.
even weirder is that you were the one
who showed me how to be an adult:
how to bite my tongue
and smile.
because that's really what it is.
and next year, you'll be either 100 or 1100 miles away from me,
but what's the difference? you will be gone
either way and right now i don't know
if i ever had any impact on your life other than the
meaningless, literally fake kisses each day:
hello.
goodbye.
even funnier is that i think we're better friends now
than ever. i tell myself it's just acting
but i am still allowed to like it.