I dream about her a lot.
I dream about how her lips fit perfectly with mine, and how she looks at me when I sing.
I dream about her iridescent skin and how it reflects the moonlight when I kiss her goodbye, how she worries about me even when I’m right there with her.
I dream about holding her hand, how it awkwardly fits in mine, how it trembles from the cold only to become warmer than me.
Her laughter, her ambitions, her smile. I know them all by memory, and they seep their way into my dreams so I wake up smiling, knowing that even subconsciously I love her more that the moon loves her skin.
I dream about her when I’m eating breakfast.
I dream about her when I do the dishes.
I dream about her so much that it feels like she never leaves my side.
I dream about our future together, how we’ll build a home out of the love we share.
I dream about dancing with her, holding her in my arms so she feels safe and loved.
I dream about her loving me, and when I look into her eyes, when I see the stars she holds and the wonder she’s filled with, I know she dreams the same.

The girl who loved me had long blond hair and blue eyes.  She always wore a red hoodie and thick rimmed glasses, and she smelled like her homemade hot chocolate.  We talked around town holding hands, hiding behind buildings if she saw someone she knew because her dad would **** her if he found out she was dating a girl.  She wrote me a letter once saying she wanted to be my superman, but her father was the kryptonite. So when the sky filled with fireworks to mark the new year, she left me in the snow with nothing to warm my heart except homemade hot chocolate.

The girl who loved me dyed her hair deep red and had eyes the color of a swimming pool.  She had too many cats and smelled like the beginning of autumn.  I fell in love faster than the speed of light, without a doubt in my mind that she was the one.  She captured my every thought.  We waltzed in snow and knew each other’s minds better than our own.  She was my first for every event and my first for every choice.  I thought we would last forever, but I was young and foolish to think so because I was and always will be her second choice.

The girl who loved me was always trying to grow her hair out, only to cut it short time and time again.  She let me go so I could get better because I was the worst I've ever been.  Sometimes, I wish she wouldn't have because she knows how to lead sunlight to the Earth. I regret never holding her in my arms and telling her it’s okay to breath.

The girl who loved me never felt the same way I did about her. Her hair landed in uncontrollable curls and she laughed too hard. Everything about her was drawn to the extreme, from her hair to her laugh to her depression. We had one night together filled with laughing and dancing before she gave up on trying, before she decided she was too sad to be with me.  She left me alone with my own mental filth to rot with my demons. She left me when I needed her the most. She said she cared, but she never cared enough.

The girl who loved me can’t look herself in the mirror anymore. For four people, she wasn't enough. She let herself rot on the inside and now all that’s left is a broken smile and a pretty face. She dreams of the day that she can love someone properly and have them love her back. She wonders when the last time she thought she was a good person was. She’s marked by the scars that show she survived but she hates the doctor who let her live. I don’t think she ever truly loved me to begin with.

I think I understand now why people compare the one they love to a star filled night. Why they dream of the first snowfall, the first Christmas, the first set of fireworks.
I think I understand now why people give the person they love flowers and chocolate. Why the first kiss matters, the first “I love you” matters, the first sleepless night matters.
I think I understand now why people fall in love. Why they’re willing to conquer the cold, to travel any distance, to spend money they don’t have.
I think I understand now what love songs are about. Why people write metaphors about someone to share to the world, poems to recite about ever changing eyes, melodies as sweet as their laughter.

I understand.
I understand that I get the best sleep when I’m talking to you. I understand that I wake up every morning with only you on my mind. I understand that my poetry will always seep with your presence. I understand that there is nothing I want more than to hold you in my arms.
I think I understand now that I’m falling for you in ways that I’ve never fallen for someone before. That nothing else matters besides the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you. That thinking of you brings me a smile.
I think I understand now why people fall. Fall off bikes. Fall off horses. Fall off tightropes. Fall for girls. Fall for boys.
I fall for you.

I fall for sleepy nights, for daily summaries, for adventures and humming. I fall for song sharing, for I missed you more’s, for wins and losses.
I fall for chance, for randomness, for the idea of falling. I fall for laughter, for secrets, for one a.m. conversations.
I fall for you not because you’re the only one to fall for, but because you’re the only one I want to fall for.

I want star filled nights. I want the first snowfall, the first Christmas, the first set of fireworks.
I want to give you flowers and chocolate. I want the first kiss, the first “I love you”, the first sleepless night.
I want to fall in love. I’ll conquer the cold, travel any distance, spend money I don’t have.
I want to break the habit of running away from things that make me happy. I want to stay this time and keep every promise.

I think I understand now that adventures are not always physical quests set before a hero. They are sometimes the feeling someone gets when a person says their name for the first time, or a tightening in the chest when that that someone looks a person who has wonder filled eyes and a fiery laugh.
I think I understand now that an adventure is how I feel about you. How I fall for your eyes, your hair, your ability to make me laugh without being funny. How I feel when you interrupt me to talk about silly things. How I feel when your eyes shift to me and you smile.

I think I understand now why my heart beat flutters when we talk. Why nothing else seems important. Why I find you between the lines of my favorite books.
I think I understand now why people say someone stole their heart. You hold mine in your hands and I’m not sure I want it back.
I think I understand now why I write love poems. Why I etch you into pieces of paper, why I contour your soul into words I’ll never forget, why I take notes of the events of my falling.

I understand.
I understand that hands are made for safety. That words are made for comfort and understanding.
I understand that I’m falling.
I understand that it’s for you.
I understand that I can’t change that.
I understand that I’m terrified of it.
I understand that I need work.
I understand that you’re worth it.
I hope you understand too.

You say “Don’t you care about me?”
I say “Of course I do.”
I don’t say “He said that to my mother after he came home drunk.”
I don’t say “You say that when I think you’re turning into him.”

You say “I can’t live without you. Don’t leave me.”
I say “Baby, I never will.”
I don’t say “He said that so my mother would say in his power for three more years.”
I don’t say “I’m only staying because I’m scared you’ll **** yourself.”

You say “We’re just friends. You’re supposed to trust me.”
I say “I do trust you. It’s okay.”
I don’t say “That’s what he said before he took my sister and raised her with another woman.”
I don’t say “You look at her with more love than you give me.”

You say “Don’t I mean more to you than your friends?”
I say “You mean more to me than anything.”
I don’t say “He said that so he would own her.”
I don’t say “You’re suffocating me.”

You say “You can’t leave.”
I say “Watch me.”

Please don’t convince yourself not to love me anymore
Please don’t wake up in the middle of the night and realize that I don’t fill the emptiness of
your bones, the cracks of your rib cage, the spaces of your hands
Please don’t look at someone else and see everything that I cannot be, the things that I
cannot achieve, the words I cannot speak
Please don’t’ let our flattened conversations phase you, know that even without something to
talk about we are still together
Please don’t tell yourself that my mental state is something you cannot handle, that I cannot
be helped, that I cannot function without a person to depend on
Please don’t turn my name into poison that you will speak to another girl when she asks who
you used to love, who you used to give your life to, who you used to believe in
Please don’t turn around and see that I am weak, that I can barely hold myself up, that I am
not as strong as you
Please don’t believe what others say about me, that I cannot handle this, that I cannot support
you, that I cannot take care of you
Please don’t love someone else
Please don’t make me fall out of love with you

Dear Washington,
I am so jealous of you. You get to hear her voice and hold her when she cries. You get to see every one of her smiles. She’s always in your arms instead of mine, always right out of my reach.
Dear Washington,
How dare you keep me away from her. You’re so far away from me. She’s so far away from me. I wish you would let my voice through your walls and make it to her ears. I wish I could scream loud enough for her to hear me.
Dear Washington,
I hate you for making it so hard to get to her. I hate you for being able to hold her every night, being able to see her fall asleep, being able to catch her tears. I hate you for keeping me out, for keeping her in.
Dear Washington,
Thank you for holding her for me. Thank you for making sure she’s safe while she’s asleep. Thank you for catching her tears. Thank you for being the place she exists. Her existence makes even the most horrendous places beautiful.
Dear Love,
I’ll make it to Washington. I’ll make it to you.

I don’t know much
I don’t know how to do long division or spell without spell check
I don’t know how to sing on key or write a love song
I don’t know where exactly geese migrate to or if squirrels hibernate or not
I don’t know how to paint my nails without painting my hand or how to not get ink on my palm
I don’t know how to write in cursive or how to create a signature
I don’t know where I put papers or if I remembered to take my medication
I don’t know much about the world
But I know none of it would mean anything without you.