This year, it came
With warning
And with promise of new beginnings.

I thought I would kiss your lips
When the clock struck
Midnight.

I thought I would know what to expect
When your lips touched
Mine.

I thought I would feel good and wanted
When your arms were the first to embrace
Me.

I thought I would
Kiss you,
Touch you,
Fall asleep,
With you.

But you didn't even call me
back.

And now,
One hour and fourty four minutes later,
I am hung up on
Last year .

I am hung up
on you.

I wasn’t preparing myself for your death
I was preparing myself for your survival.

My gut told me you would beat It.
It starts with a cruel “C,” ends with a nasty “R”
Always includes a “*******,”
And a “why me?”
And a “*******…”

But before It took over one last time,
You taught me about friendship,
how it arises from the strangest of circumstances.
You taught me about happiness,
how it can come in the form of chamomile tea and candlelit dinners.
You taught me about strength,
how it radiates through the bones of a boy with nothing to lose, but It.

I am a better friend,
I cherish the happy moments,
I know about true strength,
And it is all because of
you.

It is never fair,
But twenty is too young.
And I said,
I wasn’t preparing myself for your death
I was preparing myself for your survival.

But I know how to be strong now,
And I will find peace in your rest,
And I will be happy,
My friend.

Tonight I will not hold tight to a boy
When the big silver ball drops.

Tonight I will not weep for all the
Swell times I had over the last 365 days.

Tonight I will not toast to new adventures
With the sticky, bubbly drink, in the city that never sleeps.

Tonight I will look into the eyes of my friends and my brother
And we will shout "5-4-3-2-1 HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Tonight I will kiss the tragedies of 2012
Goodbye, in hopes of not losing more dear friends far too early.

Tonight I will fill up a large beer glass with whatever
Is in the keg, in my friends garage, in my hometown and,
I will make a wish for good health, and love, and of course, new beginnings.

I am naive -
stuck in between awkwardness and grace.

I have yet to taste

life

as it is glorified through literature.

My tastes of it have been quite bitter.

I need reason -
but I ask no questions.

I just assume it is all a distorted illusion of
perfection.

A year and a half spent in bliss,
Flowers and kisses,
He adored her so.

Sapphire and diamond ring
Tied to the collar of a plush puppy.
"Oh my gosh! I love it! I love you!"
He didn't know it yet,
But she was going to break his heart.

Flashforward

He told her she was pretty, he told her she was great.
She couldn't do anything but lie to his face.
"Yes, I love you too," wasn't the truth.
He didn't know it yet,
But she was going to break his heart.

Flashforward

It was a warm April afternoon,
Like a rickety faucet,
The feelings were beginning to leak out of her.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I don’t understand [gasp] why you’re doing this [gasp] to me,” he sobbed.
And he knew it now,
She was breaking his heart.

And she knew it now,
She didn’t love him,
*anymore.

He's dead, he's dead.
I gotta get it through my head.

He died, he died.
I gotta stop crying.

He's gone, he's gone.
I gotta move on.

I can't, I can't.
I want him back.

His face, stone cold.
His frame, rigid.
His words, honest.

He told me to "Just grow up!"
After I jumped out from behind the
dark, candle-lit doorway yelling,
"Boo!"

I let sodium and water burn my green eyes,
I let the liquid slowly roll down my crimson cheek,
I let it settle between the crease of my pursed lips.

Then I said,
"I am."

I push, you pull -
You want more than I can give.
Slow down -
It hurts.

My head is a mess.

I love, you like -
But I cannot pretend.
Just stop -
It hurts.

My heart is a wreck.

I try, you walk -
And I want more than you can give.
Speed up -
It hurts.

My love,
*******.

You passed through this town, and you passed through my bed,
And last night we packed a heavy bowl and let the herb cloud our heads.
We talked about our families, our futures, and fears,
And it was all much easier to spill after knocking back a few beers.
You sat across from me on my bedroom floor,
And we were cross-legged and stary-eyed like we'd been here before.
You played me your favorite band at 2 AM,
And when I woke in the morning, you were still holding my hand.
You smiled at me, "good morning", and kissed me on the lips,
And then you pulled me in real close to you and you wrapped your arms around my hips.
You played with my hair, twirled it between your rough fingers,
And I kissed you on your shoulder and let my lips linger.
We talked some more, and you were kind, and we have the strangest things in common,
And I think we both realized that wasn't a moment that could be forgotten.
Then, we were good with each other when the time came for you to go,
And last night meant a lot to me, I just hope you know.

I put on a little black dress,
it was short, and my mother would not have approved.
Then I slipped into a pair of five-inch-high Jimmy Choos.
I poked some diamond stud earrings through my ears,
they were the round, pretty ones you gave me for Christmas last year.
I painted my lips dark red and my eyelids shimmery gold,
then I pulled on my black pea coat, and headed out into the cold.
I walked a couple blocks until I reached the bus stop,
wanting to go somewhere new, change my name, and get lost.
Thought if I looked real nice, all elegant and ****,
I could disappear from everything I've been dealing with.
I could start over new, maybe in L.A.,
I could wear that little black dress and it would all be okay.
And as I stood there, under the street lights in the cold,
I stared down at my feet, and let the reality of it unfold.
I could dress myself up, and try to skip out of town,
but that's no way to live, I'd just be wandering around.
The truth of it all, and what I must accept,
is that no one's life is perfect, not even in a little black dress.

It's 2:52 AM.
What are you doing?
Are you fast asleep,
lying with your lover,
getting smashed,
getting high,
thinking of thoughts that don't seem to arise during a decent hour?

It's 2:53 AM.
I am exhausted,
burnt out,
spent.

It's 2:54 AM.
I am alone,
in my bed,
with my Christmas lights on,
and thoughts bouncing from corner to tired corner of my mind.

It's 2:55 AM,
I am thinking,
I am wishing,
I am hoping,
That I pass my final exam in five hours.

This morning, after he left,
I had a revelation -
Maybe some things are only meant
to happen
once.

Like, that time I was on ESPN at the basketball game.
Or, that time I met my favorite musician and he complimented my shirt.
Also, that time we all swam in the Aegean Sea as as the sun set, and we felt invincible.
I guess even the time that really dreamy boy slept in my bed and we made "love" all night.

So, maybe some things are only meant
to happen
once.
And, maybe realizing it will never happen again is what makes it feel perfect.

But, I wish some things could happen twice.
Or, I wish that I could freeze a fleeting moment,
and appreciate its entirety,
before it is gone.
Before I know its only going to happen
once.

Six years later, and I'm still here,
tapping on these keys,
sentences of our love story.

And it goes like this:

He was a boy,
And she was a girl,
both with the best of intentions.
He liked her,
And she liked him,
And that was that for a while.
But the girl had another fella,
One that always made her sad,
So to him she said "See ya later."
Now the boy and the girl
they could be together, and it was right,
And they laughed by day, and they kissed at night.
The boy would look into the girl's eyes,
And say, "I love you. You're mine."
So months went by,
But for the boy, his attention span grew short.
He made the girl cry,
He told her he tried, but their love just wasn't for real.
She wondered, what the hell?
Because in love she had fell,
And the boy just said, "I'm sorry."
Now the boy and the girl, were no longer a pair,
They both went their separate ways.
And the girl slit her wrists,
And the boy clenched his fists,
because it was the biggest mistake he made.

And our love story died
A long and slow death.

The boy strung her along,
for far too long.
And more than once,
told her he wanted her back.
And the girl, she believed him,
because she couldn't do anything else,
and the boy, he left her,
again.

And our love story died,
it finally died,
the day you looked into her eyes
and said, "I love you. You're mine."

Round and round the bottle goes,
Where it will stop no body knows.

I hope its Billy,
You hope it's me.

Now it's seven minutes in heaven,
and I can hardly breathe.

You take my hand and lead me through the door,
We kneel down and sit close to each other on the floor.

My hand on your cheek,
Yours on my hip.

Mouths drawing closer,
Minty breath escaping lips.

Your eyes close, mine do too.
What to expect, I wish I knew.

Slowly, slowly, we're almost there,
Tips of noses gently brush.

And then that's it, our soft lips touch.

Winter
He was fifteen. I was sixteen.
And we were young.
And we were in love.

“I love you to the moon and back,” he’d say.
And I’d smile and ruffle his hair.
And he’d kiss me on the forehead.
And we were in love.


“Write me a letter,” he said.
So I wrote the truth on a piece of blue paper:
You make me feel alive.
And he wrote back:
You make me feel real.
And that was the truth.
And we were in love.

Spring
"Come over after your Easter dinner," he asked.
And he gave me a basket of candy,
But his hands made me feel sweeter than chocolate.

“I just can’t tonight…” he said (lied).
“Oh, that’s okay… see you tomorrow…” I said (lied).

“He’s going to break up with her,” were the whispers I heard in the hallways
“Four months! Four months and that’s it?” I sobbed.
“No, no. Stop crying honey, you look like you’re on crack…” He tried to joke.

And we [I] were still in love.

Summer
“When are you coming over?” I asked (everyday other day).
No response.
“Are we still on for tonight?” I asked (every Friday).
“Yeah, yeah sure.”
“He’s really going to break up with her this time…” they all said.

And he did.

And I was still in love.

And he was not.







And I am still in love.

And

he

is

*not.

Sometimes I go out at night
And sometimes I drink a little too many ***** tonics
And the next morning I forget that I did things like,
Kiss you in the alleyway behind my apartment
And that I said things like,
I love you.
And that you pulled away and looked at me, or through me
At the glow of the neighbor's television
And that I cried, and breathed deeply, gasping
As you shook your head,
I'm sorry...
And then I remember, and then I wish I could forget
Again.

"I can't, I have a girlfriend. I'm sorry."
But I pushed him against the brick wall
and I kissed him,
and he kissed me back.

We got our ears pierced together
that warm southern Fall night,
in the city of Mardi Gras beads
and mistakes.

"Let's pretend we just got married."
And I agreed, for the free drinks,
of course.
But I wanted so much more.

We packed up the rental car and drove
three hours to freedom,
ready to hit Bourbon with no expectations,
only free spirits.

And he was not a mistake.

The day is coming.
It will be here before I know it.
It will be a Sunday morning.
I will curl my hair pretty and gloss my lips an innocent shade of pink.
I will put on a nice dress, nice shoes, and a nice necklace.
I will look so nice.
Much nicer than I usually look Sunday mornings.
I will disguise my hangover with the sent of lavender oil,
and the blackest coffee known to man.
I will take a look at myself in my bathroom mirror, I mean really
Take a look at myself,
At what the past four years have meant to me, and to my family.
Then I will put on the cap, and frown because no one ever looks pretty in those **** things.
Then I will put on the gown, and feel nervous, excited, ready.
My mom, my dad, my brother,
They will all be there, also looking nice.
And I will go to the stadium, sit in my seat between two strangers who's names also begin with "Kh."
And my heart will pound,
and my palms will sweat,
and my mouth will dry,
and then they will call my name,
and I will stand up and smile, proudly.
And I will be a college graduate,
One of the first in my family.

“Wow, I have to go purge now,” says my friend.

Tell me, what good will that do?

You can puke,
You can starve,
You can obsess.

What will that make you?

A size smaller?
Five pounds lighter?
Happy?

Don’t you know we’re all the same?

We all bleed blood,
We all breathe air,
We all feel inadequate at times.

Model, student, mother,
Whatever…
I don’t care what role you play.

Don’t you know we’re all the same?
Maybe not what we see with our eyes,
But on the inside.

I guess I could call you too, but I won't
for fear that

I

will

CHOKE.

I will choke on the joke that was our relationship.
Or rather, relationSHIT.
Because that's what it was,
****.
****, I let you play me

over

and

over

again.

Like a broken record that skips,
I let you skip through the courtship period and straight

into

my

pants..

After one week,
because I was so weak.

So I gave you the only real thing I had left of me -

my virginity.

And now you're gone, and I don't know where you are.
All I know is that you're not far
from me,
from where you should be.
But you're not.
And you still leave me

HOT

for you.

Even after all you've put me through,

I can't help myself,
Can't stop thinking of you,
And what you have of me,
And worrying I'll never see you again.

So can't we go backwards?
Back to that day on the bus
When we were innocent strangers.

Can't we start over
and make this **** better?
Because I was actually starting to like you.
Maybe even fall for you.

But no, I don't say things like that after one week.
But, like I said, you make, or rather made, me weak.

And now I am drained.

So yes, I guess I could call you too.
But I won't.
Because I know

I

will

CHOKE

on the lie

that was "us."

What are these feelings I have for you?
Where did they come from?

“SURPRISE!” they shout at my confused soul.

Is it still just friendship?
Is it becoming comfort?
Has it always been love?

“YOU’LL NEVER KNOW!” they tease me, frustrate me.

“Oh but I will!” I challenge back.

Always dependable,
that’s you.
Always a little too shut off,
that’s me.

It’s different now, though.
Reciprocity,
and equality,
and, and, something more than
friendship?

But seven years have come and gone.
An abundance of time.
So I ask again,
Where did these feelings come from?

“HeHeHe!” they continue to mock me.

They know I am
confused
nervous
maybe a little excited…

Uncertain, but determined
I will find out what this feeling is.
I will find its origin,
And I will nurture it,

Or, I will **** it,

As if it

never

existed

at

all.

I like you like I like sunny days,
and sun rays,
and kittens,
and chocolate ice cream.
And you make me happy like that **** does.

I like you like I like my bed in the morning,
and my black out shades shut,
and watching Netflix in bed all day,
with my Christmas lights on.
And you make me feel warm like that **** does.

I like you like I like walking through the woods,
and staring up at the clouds,
and writing late at night,
and even talking to myself.
And I like you like I'm discovering something.

And I like you like I wasn't expecting you to come along,
like I haven't felt this way in a really long time,
like you keep me wondering.
like you're different.
And if I'm being completely honest,
I've never met another person as interesting as you.

I want you think about me like I think about you,
and I want you to like me like I like you,
and I want you to be able to know little bits about me that other people don't.
I want you to notice things that I'm not trying to show off, like my earrings,
I want you to notice things that are just for me,
And I want you to notice them purely because you're interested in discovering who I am too.

And I know whatever is going on between us has an expiration date,
and its not fair that time isn't on our side,
but I don't care that I only have a couple weeks with you,
because you've begun to awaken a part of me that I missed.
And it hurts sometimes,
but I don't mind the ache,
because you've already brightened a spark in me that was dim for too long.

And I don't want you to forget about me when I'm not there next year,
or over the summer,
or even this weekend.
I want you to think of me and always remember lazy mornings spent under my covers,
and late nights spent getting ****** and eating Sriracha and carrots,
and long days spent under the Mexican sun.

I want all this because I like you,
and I can't take it away,
and I can't lessen it,
and I can't apologize for it, and I'm not going to try to,
because, whether you realize it or not, you're helping me.

And the way I feel about you is so bittersweet,
and when this all ends it might break my heart,
because I think it already is.

I like you like I like gloomy skies,
And saying goodbye,
And snakes,
And dropping my ice cream cone.  
And you make me unhappy like that **** does.

I like you like I like the ****** heating in my room,
And waking up too early on a hung-over morning,
And having to work through a headache,
With the constant urge to *****.
And you make me feel tired like that **** does.

I like you like I like getting held under the ocean’s current,
And being stuck inside on sunny days,
And not being able to fall asleep at night,
And overanalyzing every interaction with you.
And I like you like I’m losing something.

And I like you like you never should have come along,
Like I haven’t felt this way in a really long time,
Like you keep me down,
Like you’re exactly like all the other guys.
And if I’m being completely honest,
I’ve never met another person as manipulative as you.

I don't want you to think about me like I think about you,
And I don’t want you to like me like I like you,
And I don’t want to share any more of myself with you.

And I knew whatever was going on between us had an expiration date,
But you didn’t even let it spoil before you threw it away.
And I know it wasn’t fair that time wasn’t on our side,
But I didn’t care that I only had a few weeks with you,
Because you were making me feel something good.
And now it hurts,
And I need the ache to dull,
Because it’s starting to **** my shine.

And I don’t want you to forget about me when I’m not there next year,
Or over the summer,
Or even this weekend.
I want you to think of me and always remember the girl that cooked you dinner,
And helped you with your homework,
And gave you more than you deserved.

And I don’t want this anymore,
And I can’t pretend to feel okay,
And I can’t smile around you,
And I can’t apologize for it, and I'm not going to,
Because whether you realize it or not, you hurt me.

And the way I feel about you is so crystal clear,
And now that this has all ended, you can wave sticks and throw stones,
But you can never break my bones.

We drove in no real direction
on a bitter night in late January.
Me in the passenger seat,
him at the wheel.

"You can say anything to me,"
he said,
as I cried softly in my dark
corner of the car.

"I'm feeling anxious about our relationship,"
I whispered,
exhaling words that only knew the insecurities
of my idle mind.

"How so?"
he wondered,
now sounding a bit anxious himself,
pressing down heavier on the pedal.

I worry we will grow  a  p  a  r  t,
not together, as time passes,
because we won't be ready for the same things
at the same time,
and I will become impatient as I wait
for you to do your living and growing.

I shrink into my corner,
feeling too vulnerable.
More tears warm my cheeks,
as I fail to steady my trembling breath.

"I wish I met you later."
A confession I never heard before,
but in hearing now,
felt I always knew was there.

We just kept driving,
away from, and towards,
our uncomfortable truth: We are, and always will be, in different places,
at the same time.

I’m supposed to be writing about motion correction and feature func data right now.
You know, science-y things.

But I don’t understand those things.

I don't understand many things.

Not fMRI imaging,
Not the way these keys make words on the screen,
Not the reason you’ll choose to read my poem,
And certainly not why the best people die before they even get the chance to live…

I don’t understand these things.
I just pretend to.

Motion correction is important because…
It’s very technological the way this Mac works…
The title was intriguing I suppose…
It’s all part of God’s plan…

I don’t understand these things.
I just pretend to.

Is that okay?