You should know,
She has the most amazing brown eyes.
Look into them as often as she will let you.
They look like the surface of another planet.
Swim deep in them.
Climb their mountains.
Explore their caverns.
If you look too long she gets uncomfortable.
I did it anyway.
Frequently.
I’ve read that
You won’t understand brown eyes until you fall in love with someone
Who has them.
I’m living proof that this is true.

Don’t play with her head.
It’s cruel and it will damage her more than you know.
Don’t forget to learn her.
It takes time and patience, and you will never be finished.
Don’t lay a harsh hand on her,
Or I will find you.
Don’t break her heart.
Because if you do, I’m afraid I might be too far away to pick up the pieces.
But most of all:
Show her love.
Show her more than I could.
Show her all that she deserves.

Lastly,
Even though I hate when my brain reminds me
You now sleep on my side of the bed,
I feel the need to thank you
For taking my place.
If she can’t live her best life with me,
I sure as hell hope she gets to do it alongside someone else.

we're laying in my bed
different from before
and once you turn out the light,
I go from 0 to 60 real fast.
why is it so much harder not to feel
when you're lost in the dark?
"Are you happy I came?" you say
with your back turned to me.
in an instant
I'm rocking
          reaching
               grasping
                     gasping for air.
and suddenly we're laying in the bottom of a boat
and we are sinking
because my tears are filling up the vessel.
but you turn
and you hold me
in a way you never have before.
my head to your chest,
the ultimate safety.
and your tears merge with mine
like some liquid bond
not strong enough to hold us together,
but too strong to ignore.

the returning of you is done in a haze.
you, a misty ghost by my side,
returned because you don't quite fit
like you did when I tried you on in the store.
but it's hard to let go
and I don't even want store credit
because you cannot be replaced.

when I come back
your hairs are stuck to my pillow
but I don't mind,
for it is a reminder you were really here
and it all truly happened.
all 3 years of it.
somehow in those hairs
a reminder of you I have held close before
but for such different reasons.

Just the sound of your voice
Causes the corners of my lips
To rejoice
Upwards.

I have known real torture.
Not inflicted by weapons or machines;
Not a drop of blood drawn.
Real torture is when you tell me
From a thousand miles away
That your nose is in my hair
That your arms and legs are intertwined with mine
And that your lips press my shoulders in the dark.

But in turn
I have also known great happiness.
And fullness.
And warmth.

Because I have truly experienced you.

Dear stepmom,
You should know that I wanted to talk to you.
I had it all planned out in my head -
How I was going to ask about the baby's birthday
And try to start one of those things called conversations.

But instead we sat
And didn't breathe a single syllable to each other.
And how am I supposed to open up, when
I part my lips and nothing comes out?
When the words in my brain are trampled
By the thoughts that tell me I'm going to do it wrong?

A heaving anxiety governs my mind's playground.
There's a fence around it with high walls.
On some days
They are stronger than others.
I have trouble talking with a lot of people,
But you're a special case.

Dear stepmom,
You should know that I not only love you,
But I also like you.
Don't worry about winning me
Because you've already won.
You won years ago,
When you stuck around,
When you talked with me about Twilight
And when you never tried to parent,
Because you knew it wasn't your place.

Dear stepmom,
I have a strange sort of social anxiety
That creeps up when we're alone.
I cannot tell you why
Or how to fix it
But I'll try to try harder
Because I think
(Just maybe)
You have some too.

But until then,
We might sit and suffer
In a thick, murky silence
Every once in a while.