I hope you wore a sweater,
in your favorite shade of blue.
It gets cold in late November,
(it gets darker faster, too)

I hope the shoes you wore fit snugly
(even if your socks don't match)
I hope your last day wasn't ugly,
I hope the pain was over fast.

I'm sure you felt your sadness deeply,
I'm sure you felt your heart ache too.
When you took a walk when all were sleeping,
in your favorite shade of blue.

I wonder what it felt like,
to pick the perfect tree.
To end your painful heartache,
snug shoes on dangling feet.

But my most pressing question,
that I would ask of you,
is where did you lose your earbud?
(you're wearing one, not two)

They moved you to the metal table,
(the one that tilts down at an angle)
They cut the sweater off you too,
your favorite one in midnight blue.

They make their notes:
your weight,
your height.
They check your shoulder width and write:
"He will fit a standard casket"
(they carry on with their assessment)

"Rope indentation - on the neck
Eyes and fingers - blue and red
Socks mismatching
Nike shoes
One earbud gone"
(that's all I knew)

Tell me why'd you take that walk?
I know the road ahead looked bare.
Tell me how you chose a song.
Did you brush your teeth and comb your hair?

Did it happen on a school night?
(your file says you were in 12th grade)
Did you tell your mom you loved her?
- with your mind already made.

So to the boy with just one earbud,
I'm sorry this world felt so wrong.
I hope you're in your favorite sweater,
and you're listening to your favorite song.

Earbud buddy's
Shut the world out

Earbud buddy's
Silent scream and shout

Earbud buddy's
No eye contact for me

Earbud buddy's
Nothings for free

Earbud buddy's
No man is an island
You wait and see
Interaction,  it's not for me.

There was a certain comfort in the time I spent
Sitting against a wall outside in the cold
They don’t tell you what its like to freeze to death
But here’s what wishing you would is like

The trees sway with another chilling breeze
There’s a little stinging pain in my toes
Its been about 20 minutes out here
My feet are the only things cold
I'm thinking
Way too much about how the frost feels
My hands become red
a little icy itch not quite numbing my fingers

Another 20 minutes go by and I can feel the cold travel
I have no intention of leaving
I don’t want to
Maybe i’ll stay all night

An hour in my feet are cold on the outsides
My ankle is freezing
I adjust my earbud and look up to the sky
My breath can be seen in the air
I think about my mother finding my body
Bitten blue with winter

2 hours in and my feet are starting to ache
Its an interesting feeling
Almost like I’ve broken a bone but can’t quite feel it
I don’t want to be here anymore
Not outside, id love to stay in the icy air all night
But here, in front of my so called home
Filled with my so-called family
I’d like to be staying somewhere else
Somewhere where they aren’t
Somewhere where the people who care about me
Are all far far away
And if I die, they know in a few days
Not right away
If I’m sick they’ll send a gift card
And call so many times I’ll have to turn off the phone

So maybe I’ll just sit here
And let nature have its way with me
Because I'm not ready to go back in
And live in a “family”

The painful part is how he talks like me.

I've got buckets of hands
and they all want to be around you.

The average human body is about 65% water
When I see you my body is about 88% water

I'm satisfied with approximate rhymes.
Like to rain again.
Or to lie for eternity.
I'll say your name for years, that'll sound off too.

Bobbing your head to your favorite song
You lent me an earbud
White noise

The painful part is how he acts like me.

Or maybe it isn't him,
or you,
or me,
maybe it isn't anything at all.
Wouldn't that be terrifying?

oft on bus seated next,
every one of your senses
adjusting, modulating,
to her unpredictable
solar flaring

you don't ever risk
that first missing
           misstep,
your entirety is
sun bursted
        (un)/consumed
in unhappy joy of her
consuming presence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you laugh
years later
re the topic of
your first shaky
foot in the mouth
a classic misstep
first bow shot,
opening one liner

and each storied retelling  
is nature!s
snow and rain
refilling
the love of your
groundwater table
welling up

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you love her scent
the silly hats she wears,
her short skirts arouse,
that last open button
a misstep invitation,
angry it incenses,
her every solitary everything is
incense,
pervading a daily
co-riding
passenger's
oxygen? starved soul

~~~~~~~~~

her umbrella is a wet
selfie stick
accidentally opening and dousing
an un random next door
seatmate

just another unlucky misstep for
someone sitting next store,
oil on the fire of
happily ever after

two selfies are last seen as
one
un selfishly
toweling each other off and
on
with wet kisses

~~~~~~~~~~~

you eavesdrop on her
earbud music,
weep internally you do with
crazed jealously

The Temptations
are so unfairly
singing to her
"Ain't to Proud to Beg"
and neither are you

you heart is misstepping
to every beat,
your fingers
thrumming,
you idiot, not quietly enough
humming
in the next seat

the first,
will not be
the last

smile exchanged

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

poem writing on the tablet,
amidst the groaning awful
no moving
city traffic

overheated bus
combustible with
winter snow dampness,
wet dog sweat smelling people clothes

all you want to do is get home
shower off
the daily dirt

the poetry writing pastime
is the place
where you put yourself
to better to pass over
your sour surroundings

her finger rattlesnakes,
misstepping over,
noisily invading,
the invisible boundary
constructed to hold up the
eye-averting
Keep Out sign
to momentary,
too neighborly
strangers

her red painted
pointer finger
smudge prints on your tablet,
accompanied with
bespoke words
"try this"

that smudge suggestion
won't come off

insisting on crediting
a shared authorship,
you ask for her
email and cell,
so you can share
her
forever

co jointed tangled
bus and bed sheet first efforts
on writing, all about
what you play~argue
what should your entitled poem
be titled

you think

endless short love story bus poems

but she prefers,
with red fingers persuading

the first misstep is the best

both see the merit
in each other

He was asking for something,
I took out an earbud to hear what.
He was born ten years after me
But looked ten years older.
He told me I'd never been in jail,
Never been homeless.
He asked if I knew
How he knew.
I said, "Good guesses."
He told me I looked different from other people,
Said there was no fear in my eyes.
He was proud of knowing so much about me.
But there was more he did not know,
Such as what makes me different
And why there is no fear in my eyes.

I know a bit about
learning to dance in the rain
like nobody is watching
but...

I know way more about
dancing like a *****
in the kitchen

despite the warden
standing aghast
eating up his own
billowy firebreath
soliloquy reprimands

I earbud block
shimmy, pivot and pop
raising vibration tornado
toss it a flippant middle
and cheeky smile
without breaking stride

devil dismayed
lips keep on syncing
as if I can hear demeaning
demonic procession

but I already know
what he’s saying

stop dancing like that
in front of our son

you mean…

to the beat of my own pulse
shaking divine creation
diffusing rainbow throes
undulating radiant orbitals
all for my own blissing?

one day that boy
will be a man
who knows

better

than to ever
call a goddess

a ***** in the kitchen

we all love in our own way, in the way we can. sometimes that love is loud and bright and WOW WOW WOW. but sometimes its not. its quiet like making that drive. like looking me straight in the eyes. like giving you the left earbud. like mwah mwah let me kiss your neck. and on the days i don’t feel like sinking, i know i should love you better. like stop running. stop your tears. stop your lies. sometimes it'll tell its own lies, the best lies you've ever heard. it loves like contusions and strained voices. like bahama mama blues and my vampire eyes. love like the first time I saw you cry. like a Sunday afternoon, Tuesday night, or Friday morning. love like we have the answers. or maybe we don’t. i mean an unconventional love is better than no love at all.

I remember that period of time
when we both didn't have
our licenses so we have to
go on public transportations

I love how we used to
share a pair of earphones
during our daily bus rides
to our way back home

That feeling of emptiness
from my other ear
as relaxing music
whispered profound lyrics

It felt like something was wrong
yet I had the privilege to
sit close to you
and lean my head against yours

I miss those times when
we'd always
share a book
during our train rides

Although the books
weren't really read
the only thing we're reading
were each other's eyes

Now years has passed
and there are times when
after a busy and tiring day
I leave my car back home

With an open book in my lap
and an earbud to each ear
I would look over the window
of that bus we used to take

As I torture my own mind
by conjuring old memories
just because I miss
missing you.

the earbud cacophony keeps my company
speeding past whatever else was percolating
(thoughts have a hard time running straight)
I fear the silence of a lonely bedroom
submerged in cotton ball of darkness
a pillow over my head to filter the smog of bad ideas
it doesn't help
I feel ****
unprotected and ashamed
brought to my knees by a lack of serotonin

my only fear:
the thoughts of those who think they loved me
and the regret that will make them think they loved me more
as if a hushed word or "thank you" coulda made everything alright
by setting a candle in the smog alight

Half a pint is still a cup

A good amount to drink

Half a blink means so much more

As a secret wink

Half an earbud works just right

To hear two things at once

Half a pencil's all you need

To keep drawing for months

Half a shoe is best for sun

And splashing in the sea

Half a notebook feels just right

To write a short story

Half a secret's good enough

To keep your mind at bay

And that's the way it ought to be

Until I'm brave someday

First,
dress yourself in all black
no bright colors
that draw wandering eyes.
Wear the only baseball cap you own
position your pony tail
so the brim shields most of your face
but you still have enough peripheral vision
to look over your shoulder.
Move the ring you have worn on your right hand
since you were 16,
to the left ring finger.
You cannot tell the difference
between those who will leave
when there is a shadow of another man
and those who will see it as a challenge.

Second,
arm yourself.
Tie your small pocket knife into the waistband of your shorts,
last resort first.
Clip your keys to your bra
and tuck your mace canister
in the space between your *******
along with all the promises
of men who have loved you
and promised to protect you.


Third,
text your sister
tell her where you are going
and ask her to check on you
if you have not replied in an hour.
Keep one earbud out,
and do not get lost in the strains
of Tracy Chapman's voice, no matter how beautiful.
***** up your ears
the way you have seen a deer's twitch in twilight,
You both know what it is to be prey.

Fourth,
begin.
In your apartment complex
as you run across the green space,
there are children laughing,
and you feel safe enough.
Do not let this last.
When you reach the road
feel the power of your thighs beneath you
as you sprint across,
controlled sinew and muscle
you always wanted them to be strong enough
to kick a hole in brick.

Fifth,
slip your mace out of your bra
and into your fist
while you sprint through the wooded drive.
In your mind, practice screaming
FIRE! HELP! GET THE **** AWAY FROM ME!
until your vocal chords are in imagined shreds.

Sixth,
Pace yourself.
You know if you are too tired,
you cannot outrun someone.
Your lungs will give out before your legs do,
breathe deep, and pull your shoulders back.
You have never swung a punch
at another human
but you imagine what it would be like,
the bones of your knuckles
breaking across a zygomatic arch.

Seventh,
When you pass others
do not meet their eyes, do not smile.
Under the imagined safety of your hat brim
keep your eyes on the sidewalk and their feet,
in case they turn toward you.
Remember where the parents with children are walking
because they will be a safe haven to run to.
When there is no one in front of you,
look over your shoulder.


Eighth,
On your way back through the wooded drive
when Judges 19:25
the news reports of gang rapes on buses,
Kitty Genovese, and the voices of all the women you know
who have been harassed and *****, flash through your mind
run faster.

Ninth,
text your sister that you are safe
only when you are back in your apartment
and the door is locked,
and you are sure no one has come in
while you were out.
Kiss the salt from your skin
and thank your body
for its
strength.

snowman-flesh flutters across the threshold
melting into the Jack-o-Lantern-Welcome-Mat
disappearing faster than its supposed to;
the door closes by an auto-piloted-hand
while the other tugs at tangled earbud chords
the little white knobs are dislodged, interrupting
that song she has listened to 14 times today
because when she falls in love with a song,
she falls into each note and memorizes
                                         every single breath.

Tonight.

I saw a woman walking with earbuds in--one earbud was in--while conversing over the phone with someone. Beauty overwhelmed her mortal body. A piece of her hair had loosely fallen from the right side of her scalp, and her blonde, beach waves blew in the wind.

Behind her was a man in a coral v-neck. He had blonde hair and the body build of a high school ****. Handsome. As the woman ahead of him leisurely strolled the streets of Minneapolis in her athletic shorts, which were outlined by gray stripes and dipped up in the middle of the side of her thighs, the wind seemingly spun the ****'s face 180 degrees. His eyes were awestruck and full of alive hope, wonder, and desire. Lust. What a picture.

Our bodies pressed together as we danced the invisible square in the middle of the school hallway. Moving from side to side as the piano's melody infiltrated our ears through the headphones. We swayed slowly, softly, keeping with the pace of slow-quick-quick that was required for the box step. Her arms were around my shoulders, my arms rested on her hips as we swung slowly, softly, going about the hall as if it were a grand ballroom and us its only occupants. I looked her in the eyes, the emotion on my sleeves that were hugging her hips. She looked back, smiling as if she were enjoying herself as much as I was. I couldn't help it, I had to whisper to her, had to break the trance the music had put on us, but had to in such a way that the moment would be filled with no regret, filled with the trueness I had kept in my heart.
"I love you." I say, smiling as if I had no clue of how ugly my smile were, smiling as if I were happy with more than just my grades. Her eyes glistened against the shine of the over-head lights. She smiled her beautiful smile and took me into a euphoria that was so blissful that I imagined I felt heat rising to my face in a blush.
"I love you too."
And with those words spoken, she leans closer, arms running down the broad of my back and hooking there as she lay her head on my chest and slowly rock with me, easing from left to right, slowly making our way in a giant circle in the middle of the hallway. I knew this was it, I knew this was what I had been looking for: a feeling of love to replace the feelings of longing in my heart, the feelings of lonely in my soul.
Left, right, left, right. We swayed in unison, her hips matching mine as our circle broadened with the music of the piano. I kissed her forehead, prompting her to look up at me as if we were sending mutual signals. I lean into her, hands lightly swishing her hips a little further, pushing against her own momentum, and kiss her tender lips like I had never kissed before. This was what her love had done, this is what my longing had done, we were one in the same in a world that only matched stride with cheetahs. We were the difference, we were the exception to the world as we softly went about the hall rocking and rocking, lips matching and not mismatching for long periods of time.
And then the bell rang, stating that it was time to go to class. But we paid it no attention, we stayed where we would remain for only mere seconds before the herd of students could overtake us. She drops the earbud and grabs my hand.
"Please, for me, remember this moment. Remember the moment when two unlikely souls set each other free, the moment when the heavens looked at the both of us with favor and brought us a match in emotion." tears escaped her eyes.
"though it may be my last time seeing you like this, I shall always be here in spirit," She continues, "but don't hasten to bid me farewell, love. Please, take the punishments of this tardy and stay and dance with me. Just sway." and with that, I continue our sway, placing my hands back on the sides of her hips as the students walk around us.
And we swish, hips moving as we make our own music with our foot-falls, matching a rhythm that we both find pleasurous. Rocking and rocking, swaying and swishing. I lean toward her once more, bidding her farewell with just one last kiss. Closing my eyes as our lips connect, right hand coming from her hip to stroke her cheek.
But when I open my eyes, she's no longer there. I'm alone in a hallway as my schoolmates pass around me, strange looks shown evident in each face that passes. The second bell rings and I open the door to class just in time, tears escaping as I look around the room at those who could never understand what I had felt.
A love that was lost isn't a blessing in comparison to the feeling of never being loved, in fact, it is a curse. So I have always remembered my beautiful hummingbird as she was, a free spirit and a free soul, but a part of me that I can never retrieve again.
Is brea liom tu, forever and always.

Words flow from
electric sparks
emitting ink thoughts from a
metaphorical heart.
Silence
reigns but for the
melody of an earbud anthem and the
tap of a pencil,
a nonexistent word for a nonexistent standstill.
Footsteps
echo on loop
and voices resume
empty conversations for
another
empty
day.
Earbuds tangle,
a metaphor bigger than these
words can convey:
fold
into a loop, one end
twisting around thrice,
tucking under to
pull.
The cold,
the monotony,
the burden of walking a world that
recently became
so dull,
so black and white.
Count the stars as they
count the cars that
count the red lights on
subzero nights,
a flip of a single silver dime
as
thoughts become optical illusions displaying desire for
less-troubled times.
Voices ring out in a
false symphony
as a
street-corner Jesus has an epiphany
of
color
and sound to
entice the audience
with its ambience.
A phone rings and
the operator claims that
help is on the way,
but
the victim is all alone because,
no,
nobody came
as the water rose higher and
the flames became
guilt and blame
for a long-ago sin
that
no one remembers being involved in,
The tide keeps
coming until the sparks are
silenced
and the brain is tamed by elegance lost
after the first verse.

he was so alone
standing under that tree in the dark
scuffling at the wet leaves with toes of unlaced sneakers
one earbud in, no music playing

i wanted to reach out and touch him, walking by
dig my shoe into the leaves by his foot
make a tunnel for he & i to escape
          ---run from dripping branches and the crushed smell of autumn
          that constricted the air above us---
but i passed the boy by
and pressed myself to a tree twenty feet from his

he dug up the dirt with busy feet
my feet itched, they twitched with his
we deepened our tunnels...
i guess you could say?
would it be right to think,
we are alone together.

Walk among the people,
Notice them, earbuds in, faces down.
Only aware when traffic gets busy,
When the sidewalk begins to crowd.
A crowd, yet people don't bother talking,
Because technology is too loud.

Social interactions,
Devolved,
Pushed onto social platforms
Where numbers value our memories,
Numbers influence our personalities.

We are the silent generation,
Where our voices are heard by few,
Drowned out by those that voice for the many,
Because we are just numbers, comments, or likes.
Hidden,
Under a post.

When the time comes for me to finally let go
I have forgotten how to
When the time comes for me to finally let go
there are scars
scratches from my nails digging into the last piece
the realization that this probably meant nothing to you
the sorrys
why was i always the one saying sorry?
When the time comes for me to finally let go
bring band aids for the tips of my fingers
the claw marks can stay
don’t let me forget what happened that night in september
don’t let his words cover my mouth again

you were always in my mind
the constant reminder
you said i was beautiful but you loved her more

When the time comes for me to finally let go
remind me of the bad things
remind me of the stares when he laughed to his friends about my feelings
remind me of the nights he would ask me to be with him
because she was not
remind me of the 3ams, sitting on my bathroom floor
clutching my knees and
shaking because I knew she owned your nights
remind me of every poem ever written
tell me that they don’t always have to be about you
they never were about you

and remind me there are more important things
theres always something more important

When the time comes for me to finally let go
take me back to the high school hallway
one earbud in my ear, one in yours
falling in love with a carefully drawn character
show me what was wrong
remind me of the pictures of her that he had slipped into the pocket of his ripped jeans
remind me i was not special
i was not her

When the time comes for me to finally let go you are imprinted in my mind
a fantasy, an angel, a perfect person
remind me of what you are not
remind me of what i don't have to be
because i never had to be her
i was only me

when the time comes, when it finally comes, remind me how one day this will be easy
one day i will not think about the cracks you left in my skeleton
calling them love letters
one day it will only be me
and one day i will accept that
i am only
me

the bus to school is loud
but the screams of students drown out
the voices in her head
so she never minds
she puts in an earbud
and listens to music
she still feels very tired

Holding one earbud in my hand
I am half in the world, half in my head
The dichotomy is soothingly shattering
I have power over this splintering
I have power over something

I notice the way
lovers linger at each other
for two seconds longer
and how
you mumble along to that tune
escaping from your right earbud.
The gallery cafe holds
artists in a room full of art
and I feel as if I'm
interrupting something
special
here.
I'd frozen that expression
portrayed by his features-
glowing when she'd
waltzed in;
tucked it into my bursting pocket as another stolen moment
and I think
love
is a funny thing.
Untouched
yet experienced
and I wonder why he
had eyes for her
and how long they'd last
or how he'd chosen
that particular song;
lyrics involuntarily memorized
for what other reason than fondness;
or how after knowing someone for longer than your memory can recall
that the creases in their index finger
is as familiar as the back of your hand;
so can all these emotions
overflowing with
serotonin and
caffeine,
dopamine and
adrenaline
be classified as love?
I think it can.

// Is this a milestone or ongoing progress? //

She was beside this guy,
and beside herself with her
and him. She remembers sitting
on his shoulders while the sun
set over Jerusalem. She
was smiling in such a way
that the sun was backing down
from a challenge neither it nor I
had seen, which is why
I took the picture.

It was beautiful to see. The tilt
of her head for his photographs, the link
of her arm for his steadying walk, the share
of her sounds with him--one
earbud apiece--all the things
she used to do with me

And in the holy city I was blessed
to see her dance
between two kinds of love
so seamlessly

grubby brown land
half-moon like a splash of milk
punctuation in the darkest of darks

and the dog is barking
mustard-bearded with its earbud leg
and chalky eye eying a bird

red-tailed bottle
above the ladder to nowhere
or black everywhere

a place a dog still howls
at the nonchalant moon
night-time's noiseless citizen

gravity found me inside you,
owning up to decisions.and outliving bad ones,
playing down my own involvement in the desecration
of your religions  
we fell through each other’s cuticles like grass-clippings torn from the earth while sitting-
so with one bad earbud you pinned me down to time and place,

we made drawings again.
we pined by windows.
we pinned up our papers in the kitchen
made islands out of our voices-
let go with soft vigor.
tried less than as hard as we should have

the air was cool, relaxing,
when he captured her
attention. he was leaning
against a pillar, long hair
pulled back into a thick
ponytail. his denim jacket
had a patch on left side,
right above the pocket.
one earbud in, the other
was just hanging, dangling.

his face was calm; he must
have been deep in thought,
staring at a spot on the ground
next to his heavy boot. he took
a puff of his dwindling cigarette
without blinking, brown eyes
unmoving. he carried the weight
of the world. with a sigh, he
lifted his eyes. they met hers.
he blushed and her heart leapt.

On this January day,
my heart was broken.
I didn't cry or ask myself why,
I simply mourned the words left unspoken.

How I gave him my all,
But he gave me nothing at all
Except empty promises that he was never going to leave
But isn't that what you get when you wear your heart on your sleeve
And believe every ******* word he says?

I'm not mad, maybe a little sad,
But no big deal.
I've been on this battlefield, before
But I thought this time it was real,
But I lost who I was in his eyes
That still glow gold in sunlight
And those memories burn like the blade
That I put to my skin last Thursday
But he wouldn't pick up the phone,
Never leave a suicidal girl alone
She might drag you down into her black hole
And apparently that's what I did,
Lies spewing from my lips
That I was fine
But tell me why I went outside
"Alive" by Pearl Jam in the earbud jammed into my eardrum,
Screaming at the sky.

It felt surreal as I watched the clouds pass overhead,
Finding a new appreciation for colors that once seemed like a black and white dream
That I'd never see again,
You drained me of everything I once loved,
Claimed it was all in the name of love
But I don't think you know what that means
Because love to me is balanced,
It doesn't make you feel weak
Like you made me to be.

Was I fool? Yes, I admit.
Do I regret letting you in? Yes, I admit.
Do I see your face in the sky? No, I don't.
I see it when I close my eyes like if I stare too long it'll be imprinted in my brain forever,
I should have never brought you to my favorite places because your shadow will always roam behind me.

That's why I'm looking to the sky,
I haven't taken you there yet
And I'm glad because if you were there then I would spend the rest of my life looking at the ground,
And I just can't.

I can't pretend that I'm fine,
I can't pretend that the next few months when I wake up I won't miss your snoring or your imploring of what my nightmares were about,
Come to find out that you were the demon haunting them,
For my fear of abandonment always wins
Because you left me with a pocket full unrequited misery
And looking up into the depth of the sky to repent for my sins,
The sin of loving you even after you hurt me,
That this isn't some twisted dream,
It's reality, which makes it harder to put myself back together again
While you shut me out and I'm living in my head,
I wish you would have just left me for dead instead of numb,
But that's not always how it goes,
I've got your ghost for now,
However, mark my words,
Years from this point I'll be the last thing you think of before you fall asleep
While the image of you won't even occur to me.

I screamed at the sky today,
"Alive" echoing in my ears,
Those unspoken words finally said,
Now in the clouds where they belong.

I'm staying strong.

I screamed at the sky today
And for once,
I think I'm going to be okay.

One day we met at a crowded street.
Your hands were on your pockets and your clothes were a bit damp.
An earbud dangling on your left ear and your eyes a hazelnut brown.
You got that vague smell of chocolate and your lips swollen red in the cold December air.
People walked past us,
hurriedly and unknowingly,
but time seemed to froze right at that moment.
Everything that's around us was a blurry picture of dismantled motion and I continued to stare upon your eyes in awe.
You looked at me quizzically and I just smiled in response.
I am a faded portrait of an identity you once knew and talked to.
I held my grip tight to my journal of poetries about you,
that I know I should give to you but I can't.
I'm there,
standing in front of my missing piece hoping that he'd remember me,
but you just shook your head and walked past me like I'm never a part of your memory.

I wanted a broken heart
Because many hearts were broken
And to be like many was "to be like..." -
Relating was a cosy thought

It was like that cool dime-sized scar on your elbow that you could show your friends to brag about your adventure
But instead of a healing arm you have a philosophy that needs to heal
This knotted idea, constructs tangled like a pair of earbud headphones you left in that near-useless right front 'pocketception'
And it will require patience
Patience and nimble fingers
That will someday hopefully be used to pluck a guitar to the soundtrack of your soul

I wanted to cut my heart
So I could craft it into a diamond
Refracting all the shades of pain the world has to offer, all the hues of hurt
Shades and hues that paint a portrait of my experiences
Sad indigos, angry crimsons, ***** onyx

I wanted jagged edges
That resembled a ninja star
That had been thrown in a wood chipper
Whose cuts were familiar to many
Whose veins were identical to none
I'd like to think the same pain flows through my veins
As that that flows through someone's

Today you mentioned a video,
I hadn't seen it before.
You hastily pulled it up on YouTube.
You handed me an earbud and hit play.

We watched that video,
Then another,
Then another,
Then another.
It seems like we haven't laughed that much together in a long time.

Then you pulled up a another video,
I'd seen this one before,
You'd shown it to me a while ago.

But I didn't mind,
I like spending time with you,
I like laughing at dumb videos,
And talking about memes we've seen,

So I didn't say anything.

I just let it play.