needing you, wanting you.
what’s it gonna take to get over you?
why you make it so hard to move on from you?
why I gotta fight to take my heart from you?
you know **** well it don’t belong to you..
it can’t belong to you.
we both know why, but everyday these feelings are getting harder to deny.
this thing goes deep & I don’t wanna hide.
the only thing I wanna be is by your side.
but you already have your baby.
so maybe it’s only me going crazy.
promised I would never leave you.
I mean, how could I deny you?
my homie & my best friend,
down to ride to the very end.
I feel like we’re Sean & Jhené;  destined to be together some day.
but if I’m wrong, I pray these intimate feelings go away.
because maybe we’re Pac & Jada; it’ll never be goodbye but always see you later.
because if I’m bound to be your friend for the rest of eternity,
then I promise to love you forever platonically and passionately.

I love her.
No not ******* worldly,
But softly, purely , celestially.
Obsessively?
Not necessarily, just completely,
selfishly and I'm sorry.
I love her unconditionally, some say unconventionally.
But they don't understand me.
Yes...I love her.
Most spiritually, asexually, platonically and wholly.
I love her, truly, honestly, musically and poetically...
She doesn't have to love me.

Utter the word "long distance" and the first thing that comes to mind afterwards is relationship. After relationship, comes a lover 3,000 miles away that's dedicated to falling asleep on Skype and has Snapchat constantly open to remind you about how their day is going. Time differences. Distance. It all becomes blurred together when it's 4 in the morning here, but 6 in the morning there, and they're asleep but you're not. Welcome to your long distance relationship.

But when it's 4 in the morning here and it's 12 in the afternoon there and there's more than just miles in between us but oceans, you never forget to wish me a happy birthday and if your boss is nice to you that day and adds the extra dollar to your paycheck, there might even be a gift or two for me being sent first class (because who would ever dare fly coach these days?). You'd swim the ocean for me, if I asked. You'd push the countries together. To (platonically) love another person, as the saying goes, is to see the face of God and you are an angel.

There will be days where we don't talk. The days turn into months, and the months turn into years. The longest, I think, was the hardest of year mine--coincidence? But even when the hours begin to add up and it seems like the ocean is getting bigger and bigger, you never cease to tell me that I'm one of the most beautiful people you've ever met (and **** the skinny girls who tell me otherwise). I would have turned the world upside down just to bring us closer together, if I could.

We're too young to not go out and live life with the people who are here, but who's to say that the people who aren't physically here aren't real? I can reach out and touch the girl next to me, but her warmth won't mean as much as when I go home and sign into Skype and your voice is already bouncing through my computer's speakers ready to tell me about your day. We cry together. We dream together. We always said we'd grow old together.

They say you can't really know someone when you've never met them, but I've met you in more ways than I can count. I've met the way you sleep at night (thanks to Skype and time differences), because you snore when you're too tired. I've met the way your eyes light up when you talk about your job, your hobbies, the things you like. From my 13" screen, I've met your siblings, the posters on your walls, the room you sleep in. We depend on technology to meet each other so don't let anyone tell you that technology is ruining lives. It's been saving mine.

So, my friend, thank you for the long nights of telling each other our life stories, learning secrets, learning quirks that no one else has ever noticed (because no one else seemed to care). Thank you for taking my side in almost every situation and for keeping me company as I sleep. Thank you for the birthday serenades over Skype, picking up the phone when I'm drunk and crying, and for growing old with me. For all of the movie nights that we spent on Skype yelling "okay, press play in 3, 2, 1!" and for all of the advice about people you'll never meet, cheers to you, to us, the time, and distance apart.

he asked what I wanted to do. I said
write poetry
or
die.
he said
they were the same.

you are quiet,
you choose when to speak,
and you only do when its important.

and its beautiful,
so beautiful,
that my word ***** makes me feel so small looking at you.

maybe you think its beautiful,
that i get so nervous,
just hearing your voice.

seeing the look in your eyes when you smile.

and its platonic,
its platonic because i only see your soul,
i see how beautiful it is ,
and oh my.

oh my,
how i want to see beauty with you,
i want to talk to you.

i have fallen in love with you,
platonically.

and thats a made up word,
but its what it is.

and oh god,
im sure you have flaws,
but ive never seen so much beauty in someone.

ive never seen a soul,
i saw your soul in your eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked through a chuckle, and then it hit me. I knew exactly what was wrong with me. I was passionate about things, and never about people. I had loved people, but always platonically, or platonic and gilded with a crush or wrapped in lust that I always brushed off with innuendos and flippancy. I had never loved another person the way I loved twisting my brain around a calculus problem or constructing a flame chart. I had thought of people in a romantic sense more than I had evaluated people for science bowl, but lust and love had never consumed me as the issue of organizing practice and evaluation and cuts within the handspan of a month. I always fell in love with things, and never with people, and that's why already, not even 16 yet, I've reconciled myself to die alone.

Let's get it back like nothing happened and return to normal,
Nice while it lasted but the way that this has turned is awful,
Friends with benefits? This is the end of it,
We should've never kissed, it's best we just forget this ****,
I don't wanna be strangers, giving ****** favours,
That'd probably fail I've just gotta honour the changes,
That you made me make, because they made me great,
It was the games we played that swayed me babe,
No one's ready with a friend and a plan at birth,
But we've got each other so I wanna put my hand in hers,
Just platonically honestly, I promise, it's gotta be,
Let's get high as **** and binge watch Planet Earth.

I could never love you,

the way people think I can

I love you in many ways,

complex ways, simple ways, hard ways

but never the way people think I can.

I love you as much as the universe loves her stars,

I love you as much as the rain hitting your bare skin.

but never in the way people think I can.

They think I can only love someone

lightly, softly, friendly, platonically

I love you as Alexander the Great loved Hephaestion.

Secretly, deeply, intensely.

**** me platonically.
Measure the distance between your fingers and the synapse in my brain.
Check the amplitude across my breastplate and The absence of love marks semblance covering it.
Detach your hips from mine and run away from Me faster.
Look along the purlieu of my heart and shake me Harder with subliminal messages between Glances.
Touch my versification to your mouth and do not Stop your flickering eyes from studying the genial Eulogies between every line.
Sir, you cannot touch antique pieces of marrow And bone.
This blood is obsolete.
How anachronistic to have a heart pumping Inside of a dead soul.
Please tell me a story, the side I could never see.

From the first day we met
All awkward and weird
I felt a sense of.. Something
Growing within

You were in all my classes
My partner for everything
The pull became stronger;
We were closer than anything

Crazy,weird,fun,
But true
The friendship we have
Is something refreshingly new

Now two years have gone by
And they've given me a glimpse
To the truth of true friends
I love you (platonically:P) to bits

Today's graduation ceremony
Is not a goodbye
But the end of one chapter
From the many to come by.

We dated,
it was weird,
I could tell something was wrong.

You said goodbye,
I did too,
and I felt so confused.

I didn't mean to not feel,
you just weren't the one,
then sometime we started talking again.

And then I found out
why.

You began by saying
you had a secret,
a deep, dark one that no one could know.

And for hours you tested me,
made me swear
to never tell.

Then you said it.

And everything made sense.

And now look at you,
opening up to the world around you,
looking at the hopes I have for you,
I am proud of you.

I am proud of you.

I am proud of you.

You have so far to go,
but you've come so far already.

I love you,
but platonically,
like a brother,
the one that I never had
to look up to.

So thank you,
and remember,
I love you
and I'm proud of you,
so very proud.

Let's get some air
Oh, the air is nice
Smiles all around
So beautiful

I feel at peace
The trees nurse me back to reality
And it feels good
And I feel alive

We sit together
In the shelter of our friends
We talk about anything
We talk about everything

You talk, a lot
I listen, a lot
I hear you
I like you

Platonically, of course
I have feelings all the same
But you are beautiful
Your mind is beautiful

I feel calm and excited
All at once
I appreciate the gesture
Thank you for this

Does it rain? Maybe
I'm not paying attention
To what is going on around me
Only attentive to you

The branches dance
Whisper secrets to the night
Sit back and relax
The silence is okay

I'm glad that it's dark
You can't see the smile on my face
I'm enjoying this moment
I'm enjoying your company

It's getting late
Well, early actually
I take you home
We take our time

Gentle goodbyes
I will see you soon
And then we embrace
And I embrace the night

We both walk off
I shake my thoughts off
What a good night this has been
Goodnight, goodnight indeed...

LONG AGO,
            I     S P R A W L E D.
I WAS THE OCEAN FLOOR
            I WAS AN ASTRONAUT, A COSMONAUT
            Still impressive,
                               I am now
                               Harry Houdini
                               in the worlds'
                               smallest box

Less impressive,
I am covered in my own ****
which is soaking into the cracks between the linoleum tiles
in the ****** kitchen
of the ****** apartment
i live in
with my ****** ex boyfriend
(But he is not home)
  
Serenity, alone
It's rare
To feel love
From inside

Serenity, together
It's hard
To have help
from outside

An hour and a phone call later

A friend hoists you up and carries you
Mopping your floor
wiping your genitals
Tenderly, platonically
The way we hoped had already happened for the last time
A moment between you as a baby and you as a parent
Before you gained a real memory
But that moment is happening right now
But, somehow, your whole childhood is ahead of you still

I do not know how to be your friend.
We started as lovers, two souls
lost and wandering
searching for someone to complete.
But I never wanted you to
complete me
I wanted you to compliment me
I wanted us to collaborate on a love
so real it left us
breathless.

You, the boy with sea glass eyes,
me, the girl with golden hair.
Together we could’ve been poetry.
But your heart has been glued together
too many times
and all I have is duct tape
and chewing gum
so you told me we needed to be friends
while you found a way to put yourself
together.

I do not know how to be your friend
but I will try to fall in love with you
platonically.
I’ll try my best to forget the feeling
of your chapped lips on my neck,
the warmth of your calloused hands
in my own.
I may not know how to be your friend
but I know how to appreciate you
for everything you have been
and everything you will be.
All I can hope is that this will be enough
while you learn to save yourself.

1.My mother's favorite color is the palest blue, the same as her eyes. For years, my favorite color was hers because I wanted to be just like her. At nine, I fell in love with green because everyone else loved blue and I wanted to be just like no one. At sixteen, I fell in love with a boy who had green eyes. And skin the color of sunshine and honey. I thought it a coincidence his eyes held the orbs of liquid green in the very shade I found so enchanting.
2. At twenty one, I have been hypnotized by and loved romantically and loved platonically and ****** a sea of green and still think it a coincidence because I am oblivious to eye color. I did not notice my roommate's eye color until our second year of sleeping on mattresses on the floor, laid a yard away from one another.
3. My roommate has green eyes.
4. I am writing this, like the Duke's servants who moonlit as actors, in a green room, behind the scenes. The room where actors reside during a play when they are not on stage is called a green room. Sometimes this room is painted green, sometimes not. This green room where I wait is green. The green room took its name from the fact that its walls were often painted green to rest the eyes of actors after exposure to stage lights. The green room may also derive its name because the London Blackfriars Theatre has a room in 1599 that was green where the actors waited. The origin of the term has been lost. There is no definitive place from whence it comes.
5. Acting is almost lying. In acting, one is meant to become a different person, not quite a lie, but not quite honest. Actors have the ability to become different people, consider motives, achieve an objective. Subsequently, many actors are brilliant manipulators. Many actors are brilliant liars.
6. I am not one of these actors. I am a terrible liar.
7. A wave in that sea of green was a terrible actor, but a brilliant liar.
8. One day, we took a walk just before it rained when the sky turned a gray-green and streaked with gold. A man stopped us and asked, "Hey, what's your favorite color?" "Green," he said without missing a beat. "Your favorite color isn't green, it's black." "I know." "Why did you lie?" "I don't know."
9. That was the first lie.
10. I thought it was a coincidence that he had green eyes, just like other people I love and loved. Mere coincidence. Or divine intervention. Or a sign. It started to pour right after that first lie. Mere coincidence. Or divine intervention. Or a sign. After him, I ****** blue eyes. I sought love from brown eyes. I kissed anything in between. anything but green. I wanted the company of brown eyes blue eyes anything but green. My roommate's green eyes are the exception.
11. Green eyes. Honey, you are the sea upon which I float and I came here to talk. I think you should know, the green eyes, you're the one that I wanted to find.

I fear not having time one day to enjoy myself
Not having time to lay with my husband
Or run through a few casual dungeons in WoW
Or just rest for a little while

I fear not having kids before 30
When 30 comes family history says I'll get a hysterectomy
All I want to do is be a housewife
And a mother
A homemaker

I fear that one of my best friend will just disappear
Maybe because I pushed him away
Or because he got bored with our conversations
Or maybe he just never cared

It hurts to think about Null
How I pushed him away
And he did so much for me
I never got to tell him thank you
Or how much I truly appreciated him

It hurts to think about how Papa died so early in my life
We could've had so many fantastic conversations
I could've learned so much

It hurts to think about the last conversation that I had with Papa
I didn't know how to talk to him when he was dying
So I cut the conversation short
I should've never done that

I fear that I'll never see them again
That I'll never get to say I'm sorry
That I'll never get to say I love you
That I'll never get to hear You're okay from them again

But you know it's nice to think about Karsten
The man I love

Not platonically like Null
Or in a family way like Papa
Something in-between
Something romantic

I love him

He's my best friend
We're romantically involved
I could spend the reset of my life with him
I just hope I can make it work
That we can make it work

So yeah life isn't all happiness
And I have fears
And pain
They'll stay with me forever

But because of people like Karsten
And my Mother
And so many others
Life can be bright
And it is worth it

I love you.
Platonically of course.
But I love you.

You make
me feel okay
as a whole
not a piece hidden

You don't seem
bothered by
any part my me
even the crazy

My dear friend,
you had better not lie to me.
never.
ever.

Don't hide away
your heart from me.
I want to see
everything.

All the scuffs
all the scars
all the cracks
all the tears

Everything.

I don't care
how dark it gets
I live in darkness,
too, *****.

Don't think for a second
that I'll scare easily
'Your struggles' is not
on my list of phobias.

So please,

Don't hide
from me.
Don't lie
to me.

I don't like fake.
I don't want
to be friends
with a lie.

So please,
Trust me.

it'll be okay.
I won't hurt you.
If I did,
I would hate myself.

You know how I am.

Out of all the thoughts
in the world
you had to occupy mine.
We're the difference
between holding hands
with fingers interlaced
or platonically placed palms.
I want you to know, though,
that I would leave
Victor Laslo's sorry ***
for your alcoholic one
in two seconds flat.

brown ringlets
we fall in love gently like raindrops
Love is not like I think but instead
calm and sweaters and hugs and I feel calm
(for moments here and there)
coconuts and socks I want to
remember the softness of you (your hands)
and the fire of you
the way you cry the way you are earth
I want only to tell you that the way you (are)
sing , dance
make me love you more (often)
platonically.

slow things down
live in the present of you and i, colliding in ways that previously seemed to be long over, an unforeseen fate
committing acts two beings platonically could never do
the idea of me and you once more, but an actual romance in act two
causing headache from inhaling all the smoke signals
does he want me or does he love me?
"best friend" being thrown around after doing things no two best friends would ever think of doing, avoiding the topic at hand of what even is this mess we've created
we're both without love, both have typical teenage desires, might as well have some fun while being alone
i don't know how much longer i can do this without falling straight back into square one of loving you

do you remember
that night months ago
cold breeze of September
the moon a bright glow

we drove away from the light
to stare at the skies
the stars becoming so bright
and reflecting in your eyes

we laid there for some time
in the bed of my truck
talking of our past crime
in your arms getting stuck

as the night dragged on
the chilly air blew
both stifling a yawn
closer we grew

talking or not
I laid facing you
our legs wrapped in a knot
I had an amazing view

I had never felt so at ease
being so close to someone
giving your arm a gentle squeeze
my fear came undone

I remember this night
as when I met my best friend
and it felt really right
for us to platonically blend

as friends we remain
this night meaning not a thing
but a link in the chain
to which our friendship can cling

Remembering how beautiful that moment it was back then. While you seemed enthusiastic about your stories. Over and over, I’m falling for you. Staring at your eyes, while you kept on sharing your stories. Hearing your laugh while talking? God, I couldn’t ask for more. And then, the perfect moment and timing happened.

When I saw the lights reflecting in your hazelnut eyes — my heart skipped its beat. How lucky I am to see a perfect creation. You amazed me in every simple ways you do. You, doing nothing. And I know it's weird, super weird.

Then, I became anxious on how I should act like nothing happened. But, I failed on it. Running out of words to say. It was the perfect time for me to say how much you mean to me, scratch that, on how much I am falling in love with you. But I choked with the thought of me expressing myself, because I don’t wanna be rejected. Though I know for sure this feeling ain’t mutual.

I think it's better that I didn't say those words. Because I don't wanna trap you from this messy human I am. I didn't regret meeting you figuratively at the corner of the street. If I could just repeat it, over and over I would find ways for you to notice my nothingness. For I will fall in love, again.

And, here I am. I totally don't know what to say. Or maybe I just couldn't accept the fact that me, being so coward leads me to this ******* moment. Where I’m caught between, wanting you in my life or wanting to forget the memories you’ve shared with me though I couldn’t deny the fact that it hurts me and pains me to think of it. But I guess dear, I’ll always be looking from afar. Thinking every possible ways about the thought of us. Yes, a cliche indeed. But, I’m a human being and in love?

This memory of you may not lead to where it should be. But I want you someday, or in other parallel worlds we might have — you’ll be able to read some parts of this, and a smile coming from your lips would suffice all of this.

I guess, us wasn’t really a love story nor a happy ending. Until then, I’ll meet you somewhere over a coffee and a smoke, then will have a chitchat about how dramatic I was and was head over heels of you.

I will always love you, romantically. And you do love me platonically dear. Good byes are overrated so good night and I’ll sleep this pain off tight.

It is very strange to be a man, schooled in the acts of love by the writings of Anais Nin and Pablo Neruda, living in this place. So absurd to be told by women expecting savageness that he is gentle, that he is kind, that he is something other than what they have known before and yet...this very tenderness is what drives them away in the morning. I am not an idiot, I know what a seeming contradiction this is. Perhaps I have some failing I'm not aware of, perhaps my guess at what the women I make love to really want is a complete falsehood. I suppose that is probably correct, considering my experience and what I'm told men should do to women. "Yes, a good, swift and utterly meaningless **** in a bathroom or a car, just give it to them ***** like an almost ****, that's what the girls want...your **** and nothing else."
Yet the women I've spoken to purely platonically want and need the exact opposite, but seem to have given up on anything beyond it. I'm at a loss, completely befuddled by what I feel in my heart, and what I've experienced.

What sick process turned a man's tenderness into closet homosexuality?
What terrible ******* turned a woman's need for warmth and love into a weakness?

Wish me away,
Because my darkness can never mix with your sunshine smile,
As I try to play insanity for joy the only thing that changes is the way my face looks,

                         My poker face,
Trying to play a game I'm failing at only gets me as far as hello,
                             Or goodbye

Or I'm sorry,

I'm sorry for my masks,
I only wear them because I can't tell if someone is doing the same to me.
My insanity is my bliss and bliss has become this apology,
I think I've mistaken bliss for ecstasy and I miss more than I hit because mirages are the only thing I actually see,

               Except for maybe your smile,
With a hint of those ocean blue eyes
Like the pacific tide line,
I tend to find myself wishing I wasn't just one of those guys on the side lines
The other side of the rainbow should I say...

I guess that was my fault because I missed out when it was my time to shine so,
Let me start again,

Hi.
I have a tendency of holding onto things that won't hold me back in return;
Like your soft hands,
Cause holding them gives me the hope that maybe the warmth from
Your heart would maybe reach mine
Maybe just maybe,
And that maybe holding on would lead to our fingers being more than just platonically intertwined,
That dancing with you doesn't really mean more than just friendship with me,
I've mistaken my own desperation for you liking me,
I'm sorry
My darkness is blinding
So seeing an angel take form in a blond is sight defining,
Because my far sightedness mixed with my astigmatism so looking I had to walk backwards to see what was happening in front of me again,

Your blinding to me
The Bane of my existence is wishing for things instead of acting
My tideline is a rip current
I don't want to drag you down with me

          So wish me away,
Because my past is passing into my present
And I'm forgetting that the gift of today is the present,
So,
I need to present to you this apology
Here it goes,
I'm
Sorry

What happens now?
Now this poem will wash away like me,
Holding on to you is like leaving the darkness permanently,
See,
I have a tendency of holding onto things that won't hold me back in return,
and I don't,
I don't want to drag you down with me

tired. weary.
of having my red flags always ready
of being on alert for every cue
every subtle hint
from any one of you

i've grown scared of small smiles and long glances
even though that's most of what i do
i'm afraid of seeing it back
because i am always afraid of what complications
your attentions would entail

am i expected to curb my fondness
my friendship
my curiosity
my joy
to keep from leading you on

should i protect your feelings
and in doing so push down my own
do i owe it to you not to
really look in your eyes like i love to
or to not laugh too loudly when i find you funny

do i owe you my reservation my restriction
do i owe it to you to domesticate my affections
so i don't hurt you
when i tell you that:
no, i will not go to dinner with you
even though i would love to
if it didn't mean leading you on

or no, i cannot be that for you,
even though i would love to spend time with you alone
if it didn't mean leading you on

because i love you dearly already
and i want to explore every crevice
of your vibrating soul
but purely platonically

no one else seems to think this way
and i am confused
and sad
i'm tired. i'm weary.
of these ever waving red flags.
i hate the color red. it demands so much.

Loving you has nothing to do with me.

My heart as my captain,
my duty is to worship, support and simply witness,
You.

Clear in what I feel,
I can love you through miles of airwaves
or between bedsheets.
In silence or sound,
sensually or platonically.

If you wish, oh please do
tell me how you love to be loved,
and I’ll try to do that too.

But loving you has nothing to do with what
you do for me, who you do,
or how you treat me.
How you'll navigate your love for me
is a choice and circumstance of capacity,
that weighs on you.

Our acceptance or denial in receiving love showered,
or lack of,
is directly tied to how fiercely
we love ourselves
and stand by our creed.

So, loving you has nothing to do with me.
The decision how deeply we drink, however,
rests within the depths of our relationship to self and situational needs.
The love offered never ceases to be.

pt. 1
sometimes, when i want to think about things
i look up at the stars and wonder
if im ever on anyone's mind.
then i think about how insignificant we in the universe, and how significant we are to one another. as i lay on my roof top
i think about other things too.
the universe, life, existence itself, you.
i think about how we become friends with people to help them, and they help us.
and how when we no longer need each other's help we will move on.
but i don't want to move on. i don't want to lose those amazing people ive become friends with.
i have a friend who's going off to college soon. and im scared. im so scared to lose him. to lose you. and you won't ever even see this, but i want to say that i love you.
platonically now. but romantically then.
im so scared to lose you. im so scared. and im such a bad friend. im sorry. i burden you with all my problems and rarely listen to yours. i feel terrible and im sorry. im so sorry.
but sometimes, when i want to think about things
i look up at the stars and wonder
if im ever on your mind.
m.s.