I remember
when growing up
was desired.
We swung our lungs
upwards,
towards the sky,
so we could steal
the air of the
universe's river.

I'd call you on
my parents' red landline.
You'd call me on
a broken cordless phone.
Your father would yell
and I could hear your mother
knock over things
as she was either
running, hiding, or
fighting back.

You don't exist.
You're a figment of my
imagination.
You're a poem,
but I want you to be
a memory that is real
to substitute the ones
I wish were fake.

You don't exist.
Your name is not
Kimberly or June.
Your ears aren't pierced.
We never played games
or shared deep thoughts.
We never talked about
running the **** away.
We didn't grow up together.
We aren't close.
You were never born.

You are just a phantom
stemmed by an unoriginal
imagination. imagination.
imagination. imagination.
But I want you to be real.
Please exist beyond my mind.

In my head,
you confided in me.
In my head,
I wasn't so ******* alone
from ages 6 to 16.
In my head,
you're a phone call away.
I don't want to write a poem
to communicate to you.
Be born. Be born. Be born.

I have so much
I want to share.
I want you to meet
my girlfriend Rachel.
I want you to hear
about how everything
is going well, for once.

Be born. Be born.
Be born. Be born.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I don't want to let you go
For I miss you before the goodbyes
I drive home looking at the empty seat
I know it'll be filled tomorrow
But that's too long to wait
I go home and hold this pillow
In hopes for when I wake up its you
One day it will
You'll be there when I go to bed
You'll be there when I wake up
You'll be there when I come home
When I'm sick you'll take care of me
When I'm upset you'll make me laugh
When I'm old you'll be by my side
I'll love you till the day I die and then I'll search for you in heaven or hell
Till I find you again and love you till the end of eternity
You may not believe me till the rings on your finger
Soon that'll happen and you'll finally believe me
But for now,
I'll continue to tell you I love you a thousand times a day
I'll continue to hold this pillow and hope it's you
I'll continue to look forward to see you sitting next to me in that once empty seat
And after all this I'll continue to love you till you're forced to believe me
And it all starts now with an I love you

"Love has a ring to
it, and it looks great
on your beautiful finger."

With your kiss
You send me to oblivion
With your kiss
You make me weak in the knees

How warm you feel in my mind.

With your kiss
Your eyes burn into my mind
With your kiss
I feel arms

I feel the arms of a wooden chair
I feel the hard cold truth
Glass

Just a picture
Just a smile
Just a person
Unaffected by the touch of my lips
The stare of my eyes
The trickle of my tears

But your kiss is still there
Please
Just let it stay there

i want
to
dream,
to love,
to never settle
for less than more,
to look at the
stars and know
i was made to
shine brighter
than they do,
to look at the sky
and know it is
my home,
to run wildly
and freely,
unafraid and
brave,
to dare to jump
and fall and
rise,
to
dream,
to love,
to never settle
for less than more.