i always find you in the strangest places.
i find you in song lyrics, dog toys, and timber old spice.
i find you in chicken flavored ramen noodles, every shade of blue and purple, and horror movies.
i find you in rainbow coloring books, permanent markers, and colored pencils.
i find you in the grass at memorial park, folded slips of paper in my back pocket, and gourmet lollipops.
i find you in hot fudge sundaes, too-big tshirts, and icp snapbacks.
i find you in chik-fil-a receipts, gumball machines, and arcade games.
i find you in white roses, blue ribbons, animal crackers, and sour gummy worms.
i always find you in the strangest places.
but these strange places are everywhere.

I find myself on a winding trail
with passing thoughts of years past
and where I was at that point in time.

It's there I realize that, like a tattoo,
trauma never really leaves you. I
seem to remember the snap of my
knee, the despair of lost friends but
then I see the sun.

I see its shine on the snow...rays
glazing themselves over a season
come and gone. Another quarter
year past, but I see more change than
that of the seasons.

Something, indeed, has changed in
me.

superstar of the lowest level of the food chain
they marvel at my wondrous acts
i am enticing, raucous, too loud
the prima donna of the freakshow ballet
they would pay
to be seen with me
the perpetrator of chaos

hoodies with spikes on them
batman tshirts
and too tight
skinny jeans
tired pink sneaks
from my wandering days
i am the queen of misfits

It’s funny how despite different tastes
we all have a taste for music
my life has never felt complete
with a soundtrack. A beat
as a kid I was told not to fidget
told to just sit still
but my person was anything but chill
I have always had a thing for rhythm
I felt it in the way people speak
the way a husband sneaks around
keeping his wife trapped and meak
whether it is weak or strong
I could always hear that drumming song
It started with a rap song I heard
Hi My Name Is by eminem
but then again it had always been with me
it’s the reason time scares me
because in the beating tick of those two drum sticks
I could see the sound of life wasted
and it made me want to get wasted
black out drunk at fatal altitudes
when I was in middle school
we were angry
and disrespectfully spiteful
so we rocked long socks and listened to punk rock
then It was about being a bad guy
a real force not to be reckoned with
so we wore black Tshirts depicting violent scenes
and joined the screaming heavy metal mosh pit
a place to fit for all the kids who didn’t anywhere else
as I got older I put the heavy metal on the shelf
if I’m being honest it was all just a little silly
angsty teens with lofty dreams which they told us
were unattainable so we went out looking for cheap thrills
rather than develop any marketable skills
The first time I felt marketable
it gave me chills
The National in Richmond Virginia
an old theatre
converted into a sanctuary for the sanctimonious masses
to forget everything they learned in their classes
a place where kicked *****
wasn’t always a bad thing
I remember I was there
in the tenth grade
to see the Atmosphere show
because the lead singer - Slug
was my hero
his words enveloped me in a bear hug
which said you’re doing just fine kid
and in that crowd of tattoos and hipsters
and the ghetto kids wearing chips on their shoulders
I was high
but not on drugs
I was high on expressionism and the loftiness of ideas
The men behind the microphone
wearing a costume of stage lighting and swaggering egos
made me feel at home
for the first time in a while
they said things like God Loves Ugly
and Every Day Can’t be the Best Day
and the DJ’s worked the turntables
like a good lover brings their partner to ******
I didn’t know anybody else at the show
but don’t think for a minute that I was alone
we were all connected as brothers by bond and spilled blood
of our heros who were cut short before they could say the things
which we all needed to hear
We respect the story tellers
because it is how we come to terms with tougher aspects of life
and I was flying high on the dreams of kids just like me
saluting the scarred, worn, souls who had made it
who were making the path that we would one day walk
with the cut of their jive and the strength of their talk
***** of the walk
chalked outlines of the end of loneliness
They called us hop heads
and we’d reply
you’re ******* right we are
hip hop didn’t save my life
it just stopped me from taking me
for granted

how is it
this small town girl
backwoods
redneck
white trash
lives in a trailer
kind of girl
can get a man like you?

my socks don't match
I have sailors mouth
I drink beer from a can
shop at goodwill

yet you look at me like i'm an angel

motorcycle gangs
hillbilly roughnecks
hang in a bar that has a wood stove for heat

and I make YOUR heart beat?
faster?
louder?

the day I met you
I thought "yeah right"
"im so not his type"
"he likes blond girls, who wear pearls and skirts"
things like "LOVE PINK" on their Tshirts

but no....
it's me....?
seriously??
me?

in his shoes, that match his shirt, that match his hat
he said
"I fell in love with you the day I met you"

and our two worlds collide

its like winning the love lottery
and I am the ******* jackpot winner
MEGA MILLIONS FOR LIFE *******!!!
I won a man who makes me richer

******* hell
there's sore spots all over my body
scabs forming over torn flesh
i scratched until i was bleeding and then kept scratching
i just want them to go away, god why are there so many bumps
i'm trying some self surgery here let me know how it turns out
actually, don't
please don't talk to me about my skin don't mention the dried blood on my shoulder please don't say anything about how i'm going to cause scars
i'd rather have scars than bumps because the scars are mine i made them and if i can't perfect my skin then i'm going to claim it
(that doesn't mean i'll let anyone see them though, it's still ruined it's been ruined from the beginning)
i don't know what you see in me (or what you say you see in me. i still find myself doubting)
i'm too lumpy and bumpy and chubby and there's acne in all the wrong places and blood under my nails
i feel like i'm wearing an old jacket but the jacket is my skin and i need to find something better under this
god i'm going to peel all my ******* skin off
if i lick my lips they still taste like blood from tearing the skin off of them with my teeth
(teeth aren't bumpy. i like my teeth.)
my teeth are sharp enough i just need to stop feeling, if i stopped noticing the pain i could tear it all off god i'm gonna tear it all off
i don't wear tshirts anymore i don't want you to see my arms i don't want anyone to see my skin i don't want to see my skin
make it go away i don't want it anymore i just want to feel nice why is this this so hard
you'd think i'd be able to stop when i make it worse than it was and when i'm hiding all my failures under long sleeves, long pants, hands
no,  no i need to scratch until it's gone it's going to stop i need it to stop but god the pain is killing me (but so is having this skin)
digging out part of your leg hurts like hell, who knew?
i'm going to claw myself out of this skin prison or die trying
i'm going to get out i need to get out let me out **** someone help let me out i'm buried in flesh i'm suffocating in my own skin
hello 911 come quick i need you to cut off my skin I feel like i'm drowning i can't breathe god i can't breathe get it off of me
i've scratched my scabs open again and there's blood trickling down my arm and i'm squeezing it out

to be honest i never knew how to write about a boy i'd never met
and i also didn't know how to write about meetings
and i didn't know how to write about boys
but i remember seventeen years ago today, in a past i wasn't a part of and that i could never imagine, a boy I'd never met was born

but he grew up and up and up and his sandpaper heart was replaced by pints of lukewarm whiskey in the red cup left on the steps that morning and his threaded thoughts pieced together not-so-carefully were replaced by cigarette smoke lingering around his mind and out of his nose like smoke creeping through a burning building with no hope of escape for the one that broke in just to leave the gasoline by the furnace and his twisted insides were replaced by infinite spacetime and universes, bending and breaking and breathing stardust and misplaced trust and alcoholic aftertaste and burning paper

to be honest i never knew how to write about a boy who was replaced by cigarettes and whiskey and outer space and music and reasoning and tshirts and sarcasm and modernity  
but i did know how to write about someone who mattered
and i did know how to write about being entirely made of little something elses and being replaced
and he knew how to be the muse

Who are you to advise who I should be?
Why have I been told to not be who I am?

Do not pursue teaching, you'll work a luckless and poor career. You'll devote your life to an occupation that won't put food on your table, you better marry rich Megan.

Do not love like you do, it's is overwhelming. It is too intense, too encompassing. It is the ocean- unpredictable and vast. Do not love me like that, I can't handle your love. Do not cry oceans, do not have streams down your cheeks. Do not feel, do not express yourself. Please don't.

Do not love who you want to love. It is too difficult to explain, accept and live with the fact that you may love someone with the same chromosomes as you.

Do not dance at your leisure, you cannot hold the beat or sway to the rhythm. There is a time and place for expressing your joys, remember that.

Do not cut your hair for it was so beautiful when in cascaded down your back.

Do not pierces your nose, people don't like metal in your nostril and god forbid you puncture a hole and stick a diamond in your pretty face.

Do not wear the short shorts, the baggy tshirts, the sandals with socks, the buns on the sides of your head, the face make up. You know those all mean you want it, you're lazy, you're unfashionable, you're a wanna-be, you're a try-hard who cares too much.

Who decided one day I couldn't be who I was born to be? Who decided I wasn't able to being myself and being okay as is?

Today I decided I will be the high school English teacher and I will change lives with my big heart and encompassing love. I will inspire through my educating hands and words. I will love who I love with all I have in my soul. I will dance in dead silence, in the rain and in the middle of a song. I cut my hair and it'll grow back. It always does. Metal in my nose made me no less beautiful, I was beautiful before it and I can be beautiful without it. I will wear the ******* shorts and let my thighs shake, I will do my hair as I please, I will wear the baggy tshirts because they are comfortable, I will wear and say and do and be whoever I want to be.

I am a combination of atoms and particles made from stardust and centuries before me. I am made of hope, acceptance, knowledge and ultimate love for myself and others. I am made of spontaneity and the daring risk to be who I am meant to be, I am infinite and you cannot bottle up stardust. You cannot contain me with your mere words.

Who are you to tell me who to be? Who am I to accept that? Who am I to let you tell me anything about my bones and brain, my mind and soul? Who am I?

You only wish you knew.

i'll leave my mark
follow me please
spots upon tshirts and sleeves
wont wash out
slowly will fade
all these breadcrumbs i have made
words instead actions
again my silent ploy
breadcrumbs made from blood you stupid boy

the mutual tenderness
between us
feels nice
even if its fleeting

fingers intertwined
shared laughs
tugs on the hems
of cotton tshirts

adjusting the radio volume
in your car
squeezing the dish soap from sponges
in your sink
peeling back the sheets
in your bed

moments feel intimate and infinite

I was bullied from kindergarten to freshman year.

I loved to imagine a tall boy
three inches taller exactly,
just tall enough that
each kiss would have to happen
on my tip toes
and riding on his back
would feel just like
flying.

His hair would be dark brown
and his eyes would be
unremarkable
a brown so dark that others
would think it black
no one else would get close enough
to tell the difference
and no one else would love them
as I did
just as I hoped my eyes would look
to someone else
some day.

He wouldn’t speak much
to other people
his words would mean much
but only to those
who could understand what he meant
and I would be the first
to major in his language
but I would never teach it
to any but our children.

He would look at me
like I personally rose the sun
and hung the stars at night
I would be so high in his regard
that my word would be law
and he would never doubt
anything I said
and even when I lied
obvious and wide eyed
sarcasm dripping from my lips
he would believe me

He would visit me in school
to sit with me at lunch
walking slowly
past the girls who told me
‘no one will ever love you’
and ‘who would ever want to kiss
a face like yours?’
He would prove them wrong right there
at the table they shunned me to
kissing me in full view of everyone.

He would dress in leather
and his hair would be greased
combed back just like a bad boy
he would have a motorcycle
and a car he never drove
and his jeans would be
perfectly between baggy and skinny

He would call me
His Girl
and if anyone messed with me
he would narrow his eyes in such a way
that made them fear for their lives
My bullies would never bother me again.

He would describe my skin
with words like silky, soft and succulent
ebony, stately, and irresistible
but never would he compare its color
to any sort of food
except perhaps sugar
when speaking of the taste.

I built him in the lonely hours
when eyes followed me
and whispers rose behind my back
I made sure that for every insult
tossed my way like live grenades
he threw back with easy confidence
as though my life were a game of COD.

My hair was never too wild
too big or too ‘ethnic’
My lips were just the right size
to **** the breath straight from my lungs
He didn’t care if I shaved my legs
and he liked my sense of style.
He didn’t mind if I was wearing
basketball shorts and too big tshirts,
and he told me that tight clothing
left nothing to the imagination anyway
and besides he didn’t want the other boys
to see what they’d missed.
He didn’t care that I was as boyish
as I was shy
and he knew that the wall I built around myself
wasn’t all there was to me
and he always knew just what I needed,
and sometimes when I was lonely
he showed up just to give me a hug.

And when I got to high school
He shaped how I saw things
He always told me I was beautiful
and if no one else could see that, it was their loss.
He told me that there was never anything wrong with me
and if no one else could see that
then **** Them and All They Stand For.

He faded back into my subconsciousness,
speaking to me though I never truly
thought of him the way he’d been
He stopped bursting into classrooms
to show others what they were missing
and he started whispering an idea
that I didn’t need him anymore.

I would pass a reflection of myself
and He would lift my chin
‘Look how beautiful you are.’
He knew when I was sad,
and promised it was only temporary.
He smiled and gave me thumbs up
when I doubted and shook with nerves.
And with him I could cope.
And soon without him I could too.

Now when I passed mirrors
I lifted my chin myself.
‘Look how beautiful I am’.
and when I was sad
I told myself it was only temporary.
I gave myself smiles,
and I laughed at myself,
and I learned to love me as I’d always imagined
he did.
Unconditionally.

They call me Satan's son
Because I act different
I wear tshirts to church
And I don't like to sing
And because I make a little green at the age of 16
People think I steal and ****
Destroy and Deploy my thoughts to my generation
But they lost their train of thought
When they realized their daughters a thot
And I went in during a tour this Am
I regret my ways
But hey dont judge

It's dark under all these blankets
And right now, the only thing I can feel is the beating of my heart
But that's not such a bad thing
Because at least I know I'm alive
And memories come flashing back
Of years ago, of yesterday
I was little once
And living was a very fun thing to do
And the only high I knew of was on the swing sets
When I was convinced with just one more push, I could kiss the sky
Then I got bigger
And what I cared about
was being funny and my grades
in that order
Didn't even realize no one liked me til I overheard a conversation in a bathroom
I was so confused
So broken
People aren't supposed to be like that
I told myself
It was the first time another person actually hurt me
With a comment I was never supposed to hear
And that she said so casually
Life was hard then because I did not understand people, but after that I did understand I was alone
Then I got to just about where I am now
Went to eighth grade
Found real friends for the first time
In my whole life
It was amazing
I tried to not scare anyone away with how surprised I was
And under my cool exterior,
How joyful, how unbelievably happy I was for the first time,
Life was good to live then, because even though I knew some people could be mean, my friends, finally getting to use that word, my friends, would never do that to me,
Then I had to leave
Started freshman year at a new school
The only person I really knew there was my brother,
And every class I went to, the teacher saw my last name, asked me about my siblings, talked about how brilliant they were, one literally said
I expect great things from you
The whole class stared at me and I shrunk into my seat
I had PE with a few people the only pleasant acquaintance I had made so far was friends with
But the only options for months were pingpong and basketball
Two things I happened to be very good at
One of them accepted me
openly enough but didn't talk to me
But there was also a blond girl
Always dressed well
I wore tshirts and shorts every day
And who would always look at me
In geometry if I answered a question
In PE after I won again in king of the court or bump
And her eyes would say
who the hell do you think you are
That went on for a while
But we're okay now I think
We had CCD together
And both love the theatre
And we have the same lunch
And now she laughs with me instead of that look
And that pleasant aquentince and I
Thank God for his angels
Hang out sometimes  
My English teacher understands me and the librarian gives me books to read
And life isn't inherently  good or bad to live, I think, it doesn't need to be, it's just something to experience, to learn from, so I'll be ready for whatever's next

I dyed the front strand of my hair dark gray blue
I told a girlfriend waiting for the train
How an old business partner of mine asked me once
"What are you most afraid of?"
And I said: Men.

Theres this sense of entitlement
****** forwardness. Threat.
Just because you want us
Don't mean we want you.

I've noticed and swam in the ocean
But its not really the ocean
Its just Lake Michigan
I coin the creative things
And I miss my old life at times
But I settle and spread my wings out here.

But there is somethin' about men
And it ain't got to do with location
But I do think in big cities
Monogamy and sincerity harder to come by
Remember how you would use the word ain't too?
Because of me
And my influence.

I heard you came into my room.
We all knew you would.
My Chicago sisters of the moon
Who it took me running away to Philadelphia
To realize I ran out of rope
To see, to see
Appreciate and nourish your surroundings
But I make phone calls and videos
Sending my love and listening ears
My Philly army ladies are the best.

But they did
We called it
I left my door propped open with the paint I used
To paint myself blue
Mystique
The night after you left my heart in the toilet
I knew you would soak me up
See my living quarters
My handwriting all over the walls
So I propped my door open
Just so you could see
I wasn't home.

I heard you celebrated stealing your sweat shirt back
You sifted through my belongings
Made yourself right at home
But honey baby,
I've so clearly moved on.

As you hide behind fundamental fake antics
Lewd gestures
You flick off the cameras documenting moments on film sets
I should have known, I should have known.

It angered me
To hear you were so entitled
I was so wrong about you.

I felt contentment
For all of about 5 minutes
Everyone said you were different, better, real
With me
But I left you at the wedding.

I'm not sure what any of it is
But I hate sleeping these days
I woke up again today to a beautiful black man in my bed
Closing my eyes all morning
So connected, so deep
I swat and gallop past the prejudices of my home town.

Beautiful Innovator and I danced down the streets of my neighborhood
I threw the CimmFest tshirts I snagged into the sky
We howled, we laughed
I felt so free, so open
I ate eggs, he told me to protect my art.
We protect our art
But I can't just have this be a hobby all my days.

I don't know
And I never really seem to.
But I know you see the women get body painted
After me, my influence
We knew you would come into my room
You think you're so cool.

But really.
God Bless, and I meant it
Its only a matter of time one of the boys said
"Don't ever go back. Because then he will think he's got you around his finger. Its not fair to you."
My hair dresser said to me today.
Don't ever go back
Don't ever go back
I can't believe she went back
I can't believe I went back, to soak up more blood
But I bit into my heart
Refilled it with the blood I lost

And close the door of my bedroom.

in the way that I see love created,
through television, books, fan fiction,
I crave something different.

I find myself wanting not
teenage love,
holding hands
and cute kisses,
they make me gag.

I find myself wanting the dirt
grime and filth that no one talks about.

I want to yell and scream,
gnash my teeth,
and bare my soul.

I want to gasp,
shudder, gulp,
hate you and make up.

I don't want cute,
and I don't want to be coddled.

I want to be challenged
and I want angry tears
and stupid harsh kisses.

I want to know that you are more than
nike elite socks
white tshirts
and stupid smirks.

I want to be more than a teenage girl
in a sweater
and boots.

I want the *****,
harsh, awful love that people look down on.

I don't want Prince Charming's love,
I want Heathcliff's passion,
I want to feel our passion and our love.

but I don't want presents and flowers.
I want intelligence and arguments.

I want hands and skin,
sweat and scratches.

I want your passion,
your words and your gazes.

Let's make a crown out of roses
Let's have a color war and save the tshirts
Let's build a rope swing over the river
Let's build a fort out of blankets and lock ourselves in
Let's get our faces painted
Let me write your name in glitter
Let's make a cake together
Let's walk home together
Let's find each others' faces in the clouds or the night sky
Let's paint pictures of each other
Let's decorate for the holidays and wear coordinating Halloween costumes
Let's be afraid to dress up fancy
Let's get excited over tv shows and movies and comic books
Let's go roller skating together
Let's go to Comic Con and Vidcon
Let's sneak out and have caffeine after four pm
Let's sneak out and pretend that we know what the hell we're doing
Let's be together.

When I tell my little sister I got a pet mouse
She's asks "why didn't you get a hamster like a normal person?"
Her voice poisoned with disgust
When the guy at the pet store says he didn't expect me to be a snake person
Says he didn't expect to sell a mouse to someone like me so quickly
I know he means little girl, breakable woman
Little girls are not supposed to be into snakes and scraped knees and oversized tshirts
But I, I always have been
And yet my friends who have the best intentions
Tell me if people saw my accessories they'd never assume I'm queer
But they don't say queer they say gay
But I'm not gay
But I'm not straight
And I keep teetering between too much and not enough
Always in this heat of this new game
And I was never taught how to play
I was never given a rule book to my gender
To my sexuality
Because they never tell you how to be in between
I never correct people when they mislabel me in one way or another
Because I've learned people hear what they want to believe
It means I will be wasting the already fleeting breath in my lungs
To explain something to those who will never embrace it
My gay friends debated over whether bisexual people are actually gay in front of me
And wondered why I walked out of the restaurant
They didn't see the lava bubbling with anger and shame at the back of my throat
I cannot even call myself bisexual
Because that implies too gendered
That implies too simple
For my hopelessly complexed identity
I find myself somewhere on the border
And some days this body serves its purpose
Other days it is violently trying to escape itself
Not quite enough to mention to anyone but me
Not quite enough to matter to anyone but me
But I see these binaries as a prison
And most days it seems like I am in solitary confinement
Too much, not enough
Always in between

i want to write about how your touch fit perfectly on parts of my body where others hands have never seem to fit before
i want to write about movie dates and sunsets and how i started wearing my old band tshirts again
i want to write about sober nights and sober mornings, and the feeling of waking up next to someone holding me again
i want to write about how I've spent so much time writing about him but i don't want to anymore
i want to write about happiness

i want to write about you

Sometimes i wish i could leave this world
Maybe not like die leaving
But leave to another reality of sorts
A fantasy world
Where i was happy and smiling
Somewhere i could be myself wearing tshirts and shorts
Somewhere i would hang out with real friends and feel secure
I wish i could be in that place
For now i fill that hole of longing with bad things
Thing with drugs and alchole and blades and sadness
Someday i will be in that world i long for

No bits of lace and ribbon
No flowers for your hair
Just tiny trucks and airplanes
Toy soldiers everywhere
No ruffly pink cotton dresses
Pearl buttons sewn with care
Just big Tshirts and faded jeans
That’s what you’ll choose to wear

You won’t understand the love and ache in my heart
As I help you grow up to grow away
Bu I would not trade you for a ray of light
In a life of black and rainy days

Hey there rock and roller
My little toy soldier
I watch you dance alone
You’re my ray of son light
But one day you just might
Burn brighter than I’ve known
Will you still be dancing
When you are grown

Rubber scorpions in your pocket
Mario world in your dreams
Catching stars and crashing cars
A warrior on the TV screen
Pokemon are the only monsters
And when you fight you always win
Will your real world be as cool a place
As the digital ones you’ve seen

And I offer up a little thanks for you
Every time I close my eyes to pray
Keep on dancing to your song boy
You’ll never grow to old to play

TL Boehm
9/95  3/17/99  10/25/99
For Fred Boehm " watching Fred dance…

Count the times and ways and places.
Tie knots in a string of pearls
coiled around your finger
and begin to see the bud
of something new.
A bonfire on the Fourth of July
when your hands were strangers.
Hurried trips to the grocery store.
Tie-dyed tshirts and handfuls of popcorn.
Laughing on acid and
twisting my ****** rings in the dark.
Fistfuls of thick dark hair
and cigarette
and cigarette.
Writing a poem at 6am
to forget the warm emptiness
hidden in my duvet cover.
So many stories embellished
and coats set across a leather chair.
Rolling the fringes of the terry coat
that looks far lovelier
draped over your shoulders.
Cracks and fissures
from housekeeping chemicals.
Fists of frustration.
The fading burns from melted sugar.
Small reminders.
Kindness.
Strength and insecurity
and dancing  
and spelling love across my back.
And other things we do with our hands.

the things i think of when i put my nose on your gift

washed dishes
light detergent
like your well pampered skin and well cleaned house

slightly rusted metal
dark *** and light *****
like the way you party and the way you sting

sampaguitas, well cooked rice
roses

like the colors of that sky
when the day ended

i am intoxicated by your scent

and i am intoxicated
by your memory

i read you religiously
every morning
every night
study your passages of speech
your context clues that lie in the corners of your pages
feeling the curve of your wrists,
your chest.

your shrine grows in my closet
hoodies and tshirts and basketball shorts
new additions hung up, worshiped.

i never wanted another god in my life
already have too many
one in the sky, one at home, one in the past
who frightens me more than any

but i am an addict
i have a taste for pain like no other
there is nothing like the rush of losing you violently
and then talking you back into love.

even if it takes hours of my time,
days
watching your face through a screen
writing long text messages that are as untrue as the curved eyeliner you fell in love with

the rush of being the one to win you back
the pride in my ability to manipulate you into coming home
into wanting to be with me again
despite the ugly words exchanged
returning to your family
after months
of not knowing where you were...

me
being able to convince you to come home
having the conversation end not with a dial tone
but with you relenting
giving up

that is what
i live for,
mother

winter front
cold white dust running across the roof tops
laying in bed trying your hardest to warm up
the winter rolls in
making me miss it would never begin
the winters beautiful i admit
but i like the summer, the skies and the late nights outside
wearing tshirts, showing skin
be able to sleep without a blanket or sheets
i miss the warm summer breeze
i miss being able to feel the heat on my cheeks
being to warm to wear anything with sleeves
when winter comes around it makes me want us to be
making me think
of the cold winter nights we spent cuddling inside
but now that you're gone winter just *****
not having someone to cuddle and hug
kiss before bed and tell that i love
feel your cold toes on my legs when we wake up
it all ******* *****
i miss you so much
this winter wont be the same as the last
when i think of things that we did in the past
ill get over it and stop looking back
and ill make new memories
with somebody else
no matter how much i miss you
you need to know that you missed out on us

I don't know how to handle the fact that you seem to have crawled into my head.
How you've managed to push out every other thought I normally have and replace it with you.
I can't stop thinking that we've known each other so long and I'm only now seeing you.
I keep thinking about how you kissed me when were were thirteen.
And I thought it was silly because you were lanky and just so you.
And now I think it's silly that I'm giggling at all your jokes and just begging for you to lean down and try again.
And it's so **** weird to me that it took nine years to see this.
But we have both grown.
You're still tall and lanky but with a confidence only ironic tshirts and flannels and working at a coffee shop can bring you.
And I mean I don't hate myself every time I look in the mirror so yeah we're growing.
So is there anyway I can convince you to try again?
Because I swear I won't find it silly this time.

who wants to go first?

The girl with a voice only
in the privacy of her
teddybears?

The girl who used to be scared of her shadow,
lowering her eyes from every
passerby
not knowing they're looking right through her.

The girl too scared to tell that guy off
when he yelled all the flithy things he would do to her
when she was only 14.

The girl whose extrovert inside her head.

The girl who covers her mirrors with sheets
so they can't see her dance.

The girl who has storybook love,
but lives the life of a tragic hero.

The girl who believes she can succeed at everything,
but tries with only a few.

The girl who wears heavy tshirts and hotpants
as her legs are the only part of her body
she loves.

The girl who doesn't tell her loved ones
she loves them that often
as she feels they don't love her at all.

The girl who wonders about fame and fortune,
then decides on the simple life.

The girl who has yet to turn into a woman,
the girl who didn't think she could amount to anything,
but still puts in 110% even if life only gives her 80.

The girl writing this poem
with no start or ending,
she wants to go first.

When I was a child, I learned fairly quickly that, "Because everyone else is doing it,"
Was the worst possible excuse
Individualism was sewn into us like tattoos
We fed off of originality like *******
But we were never that wild
I remember my father built us each a swing
And gave us a pile of spray paint cans
I remember my mother made the cookie dough, but we had to make the cookies
The first time I told my father I wanted to move my furniture, he just nodded
The first time I told my mother I wanted to stencil, she gave me paint
When I started drawing on my walls, they asked me what colours I needed
I watched my older sister grow up and dye her hair blue
She makes her own jewelry and I make my own tshirts
We shout poetry out of the rolled down windows of my Dad's old truck, on the way to get slushies from the gas station
We wrote quotes on the back of our hands when we were angry,
Shouted when we weren't.
The hunger for emotion sometimes turned my dull nails into claws
Sometimes we exist in the wind passing through the car
Sometimes we can see paint splattered on the tree the swings used to hang from
Sometimes we are so drunk on a feeling that we embody it, soaking the thread instead of holding onto it
Individuality morphed into impossibility, because
We are everything at once
Every feeling
Every moment,
Every bug smashed onto the windshield
Every colour of paint we somehow spilled on my ceiling
Every stain that I'll never get out of my genes.

white tshirts
clinging to wet skin
rain soaked hair
and orange soaked lips
the gentle amber
of the streetlights above
hummed softly
around us
but all i could see
was the ocean waves
dancing in your eyes
before your mouth
poured into mine
so hungrily
as if you realised
you had been starving
your whole life.

It feels as if a spinning top has been turned
and I'm stuck to it,
one side me a month ago
and who I am now on the other.
I was so happy.
I didn't realise before that such happiness existed,
or that I'd ever feel it.
But I did
and you let me
and I smiled so hard from morning till night that people were asking me if I was okay.
Okay??
I'd gotten all the way to then without ever really being okay,
but now I was
exactly right.
You woke parts of me up that I didn't even know were asleep,
helped me see things that before I'd ignored -
you made me feel like something worth wanting.
The mirror held me differently
so that I barely recognised my own reflection.
Did she always walk with her shoulders so far back,
stand with her head held so high up??
The second time I met you
I felt something physically change within me.
A sudden jolt somewhere behind my belly button,
the dislodging of stars and hot insides.
I wondered if you'd noticed,
if I'd changed on the outside too,
but you were too busy
tracing the tree trunk ring lines on my fingertips with your lips,
to notice.
Then I'm spinning
and spinning
and spinning,
and I'm grabbing hair
and tshirts that smell like you and home
and fingers that fit perfectly in mine
and stained with paint duvets that keep us safe
and door handles that lead to places I've never been before
and flowers and rain and mountains and oceans and forest
and I've landed somewhere hard and all too familiar
with the wind knocked right out of me,
like a boat being spat out of a storm.
Everything's dark.
Everything's cold.
Everything's exactly how it was before -
except,
now,
I know.
I know what could be
and who we could be
and who I could be
but now I'm stooped so low that I can't even see myself in the mirror,
people are asking me if I'm okay and my mouth is too sore to answer,
I can feel something just behind my belly button
but it hurts
and makes stomach acid swim up my throat.
I spit it out on pavement
and wonder if it burns.
I hate you so ******* much for doing this that it scares me.
You took me at my worst,
rolled me in your hands like clay till I was somebody new,
and then crushed it between your palms
so now I'm so broken it hurts to breathe
and bits of ***,
plate and vase,
rattle in my lungs
till I cough blood.
And just a month ago,
before you span the top,
I loved you so much it scared me
but now I don't know the difference.

I want to be that girl you knew in high school
You associate me with the colour of my notebook
I always had an extra pencil or a bottle of water
I drank tea
yeah, that was it
I wore galaxy tshirts flowy skirts
And I was only there for a second
You turned away from me and I was gone
I walked home from school, you never saw me on buses or in car lines
But you saw me walking my dog
I went to every show you were in
I left a note in your cast bag each time
I invited you hiking every weekend in the spring
I never went
You always noticed when I wore a dress because I almost never wore a dress
We were in all the same classes
You always asked me "how I did on that test"
But you can't remember
You met my dog once,
When I was walking her through the park and you were fishing with your dad
that was you?
You remember me by my glasses and the length of my pony tail in gym
You remember me by my essays which the teacher used as examples
You remember me by the Facebook request that you never accepted or declined
You think you know me, but you can't remember
You saw me at a football game once,
maybe,
Or at the library some Saturdays
You saw my online profile listed next to "people you may know"
I have worked so hard to be part of your background