If i spent all my time
Making up rhymes
And all the less time
With corona and limes
Maybe id be
Just a little less blind
Maybe have a real taste
Like lifes greater divine

I saw that girl
That looks like you
The other day.

The one that was a freshman
When we were seniors.
The one who made me catch my breath
When I passed her in the hall.
Because I saw your face
In hers.

I would think
Always for a second
"Oh my god Alex!".
And remember that
It's not you.

I saw her last week
When I went out to dinner
With my parents.
And there you were
In my mind all night.

I'm telling you this
Because I never got to tell you
While you were still here
That you and I
Had much more in common
Than I ever thought.

I felt that pain too,
Yanno the kind of
Nausea and heartache
Of having your sense of self
Burned to ashes
In a few minutes.

I wish I could have
Told you
That I was in pain too
And that if we could
Hold on for one day at a time
We'll be okay

Two years tomorrow,
Alex.
God knows we all wish
We could have saved you,
But I think you saved me.

i don't mind it.
i mean it *****.
don't get me wrong,
it really ******* *****.

but i'm used to it yanno?
it's just been going on
for so long.
so consistently it's kind of beautiful.

it's beautiful.
how hard it is for me to breathe.
how each time i inhale,
there is a war waging within my chest.

i am so used to this feeling.
i can live with this.
this is pain. terrible pain.
but it is manageable pain.

for me at least.
i'm strong enough, i can handle it.
i love when people ask me 'how have you been?'
i respond the same way every **** time.

i'm still here, so i guess it hasn't been all that bad

and then they just stare at me.
like did you really just say that to me?
like i didn't want a real answer,
i was just asking as a formality.

you know how people do that.
they ask how you are because they're supposed to.
but **** it you're not supposed to tell the truth.
you're not supposed to tell them you're drowning.

but anyways, yea.
i can handle this.
the bad part though, the part i absolutely can't stand,
is watching people who love me watch me drown.

they're like cute puppies in a window.
so helpless.
so ignorant of what you feel.
because the people who understand...

yea well they got the hell out of dodge
as soon as they saw
part of themselves inside your pain.
they know how bad you are, so they save themselves.

no. i'm convinced this wouldn't be so bad,
if i didn't have to watch them watch me.
because really, i'm the one suffering.
but somehow, i still want to help them.

now how does that make any sense at all?
honestly i'm not sure it does.

All my loves leave
Without a kiss or goodbye
Set focused on their own things
Leaving me struck, dumb wondering why

All my clovers die
And fade away lifeless
There's no luck in love, it's a lie
And I remain still, the catcher in the rye
I’ll stay to myself, humble and glowing
No need to get too close, no need to know me

All my records break
I’ll get stuck on your every word, big mistake
It’s exactly the same love song playing
But I always seem to get it wrong
All my loves leave
Girls just wanna trick and boys thieve
Always had a thing for someone in need
Girls always gravitate to the ***** with the ****
And I think I may have outgrown the ability to make believe

We play pretend with love all the time
Thought it would get better with age like wine
But no, you all just leave me with that bitter taste
And now I realise after how you were merely a waste, love

All my lovers go
Far and away like the birds migrate for the snow
Don’t get too hype, they’ll leave 'yanno
Not today, but you know what they say about tomorrow

Dust coats a globe
long left un-spinned
thick lairs of neglect
mirrored also within.

High on a shelf
surrounded by books
I can spot Türkiye
with only a quick look.

She is there, yanno,
she who holds my
heart in her hands
6000 miles away in
a whole different land.

As I dust off the layer
of neglect I think back
to how it felt to kiss
her neck.

I close my eyes and give
it a spin to make sure
it still works (and take
my mind of how I was
such a ****.)

Like the globe I didn't
take the best care of
her. I didn't listen
to what it was she
preferred.

Now, I'm here with my
books, my quills and
my dusty, barely
spinning worlds. Alone
writing bad poetry and
missing that special
girl.

"do you ever get lonely?"
yeah...
do you?
"yeah..."
...i'll always be here yanno
"yeah, but you're not a boy"



she told me that over a year ago
it still keeps me up at night

smelling burnt toast after your kids insisted on “dippy eggs and toast in bed”.
2. two college-aged students coming out of a liquor store holding two tall red bottles, smiles purposely small so as not to create suspicion.
3. the red eyes of a young girl walking out to her dad’s car after her first sleepover, dark bags beneath them but a wide grin cutting across her face.
4. a pair of hands, a pair of hearts, no longer nervous to meet and grasping on the first try.
5. a medium black raspberry waffle cone with sprinkles smashed (not merely dropped) to the ground; a footprint is stamped in the middle of the massacre.
6. overheard between your boyfriend and his roommate: "yeah, sometimes she’s just too much, yanno? i have to get away every once in a while."
7. a couple in public; she tries to grab his hand, and he subtly pulls it back. she hugs her arms to herself.
8. a snapchat story of all your friends at your favorite restaurant while you lie in bed, clutching your phone.
9. being held by your mother and feeling her start to shake. two hot droplets hit your scalp. you’re holding her now.
10. a newlywed pair feeding each other the traditional bite of cake. she playfully tries to smear frosting on his cheek, and his eyes harden. her hand shrinks back.
11. a lost cat sign. there is a number to call. none of the strips are taken. the poster is ragged and wet.
12. you are at a funeral. the parents of the deceased are not there; the only attendant is a very old, very wrinkled woman. she does not stop crying the whole ceremony.
13. a girl walking across campus suddenly and without hesitation changes direction at the sight of tall boy headed her way. he doesn’t notice her.

I sat in the van with no idea of what to do
Which wasn't unusual
But what was unusual, was the aching feeling of eyes peeling away my skin from the distance
The etched-out image of a human dancing in my peripherals only made things worse
I tried thinking thoughts of pleasant days
But the night sky seeped into my thoughts by crawling through my eyes and infecting my mind

The sun cracked and tore away pieces of its shell
To illuminate the land with its soft kindness
Rather than beat it down with harsh and unforgiving, life bringing daylight.
I felt at peace but precariously
Like I should rest, but the absolute second I close my eyes
Snarling jaws would appear around my throat
The silent and beautifully peaceful night would shriek with sounds of gunshots
And by morning I'd be left a pile of bones and stripped flesh

Those thoughts began to fester
Inside I felt cornered and unable to give my mind peace
Outside, prey to predator waiting on the chopping block to be torn apart
Like a present under the tree

So as I sat, first in silence, then to the gentle heartbeat of music
I debated guitar
Too jittery
I pondered calls
People despise late night nonsense

The air grew thick with tension, doubt, paranoia, disgust, acceptance and love as I realized the only way to pass this time
The only way I could end my daily date with the moon and stars
And return to the solitude of my peace
Was to sing to the universe itself
Until my song ended
Whether or not that was my choice.
Now I typically want that choice more than anything else
But something was wrong this time

So I sat and spoke to the moon
Or maybe to the stars
Or to God
Or to Myself
Or to no one at all
And yanno what?

Whoever,
Whatever
I spoke to in this time where I was vulnerable only to myself
Told me something I'd never forget:

Live for.

I reread what I wrote about you last night
And while accurate, it doesn't paint enough of a picture
Not for me
And not for someone like you

So I thought, to myself
"Yanno what?
**** that."
And sat down to do better

But the problem is
Every time I try to focus in on something specific about you
My brain swarms with excitement and scrambles the thoughts

I could talk about how I could swim in the warmth and affection you radiate for days on end
But that would be too obvious

I could write a novel about how each time I catch even a glimpse of your eyes on me
My heart and soul begin surfing in a race to skip each beat the fastest
But I'm sure you already knew that

I could sing entire ballads about your voice
And how every conversation is almost sedative despite always being unique, and exciting
But that's corny

I could
Become an astronaut
Fire myself into space
And pull the stars with my bare hands
So they form your portrait
And the entire planet can see you as the otherworldly being you are
But then I wouldn't get to hear you laugh

Maybe if I plant a field of 10,000 sunflowers,
Write you 10,000 poems,
And paint 10,000 pictures of you
I'll finally be able to encapsulate your value and worth
Maybe I'll even finish in this lifetime
And live long enough to show you this monument of affection and appreciation

This art is a shrine dedicated to those I hold dear
But I fear that even with more languages under my belt
I'll never have the words to describe what it is that draws me to you

But I'll be ****** if I ever stop trying.

it’s your birthday,
and you’re dead

i still don’t know what
to do with that,
so i get up when my alarm
goes off and make coffee

there’s a hole in the heel
of one sock, in the toe of
another, and it’s a shock
when the cold wooden floor
hits my skin, still sleep-warm

and i could **** the socks,
though i’m only pretending to
know how, or simply throw them away,
but it feels like i wore those socks
the last time we breathed the
same air, yanno

i’m not looking for metaphors
or signs this time, injecting meaning
where there isn’t any

you’re not the bird at my
window, because i left some cashews
and walnuts on the sill

and that’s not really you,
standing on the corner as the
bus passed, but i thought that it
was for a split second and had to
stop myself from pulling the cord,
jumping off and calling a stranger
by your name

but i wore the same corduroy pants
and black vest with the gold swirls
as the same day we met, when i
no-showed that one time, and still
haven’t fully forgiven myself for it,
though i’d like to think that you would,
that you could

and it’s your birthday,
and you’re dead

and i keep meaning to bake you
a cake, and i’m sorry
that i haven’t yet