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.

“I love you” doesn’t seem worthy enough for you. I don’t know how to say “I love you” and make it sound sufficient for you, make it sounds as beautiful as you are.
I could tell you that you make my world spin backwards, that Beethoven plays in my mind when I see you, that the constellations in your eyes make the moon seem mediocre.
I could tell you that the stars found a home in your soul, that my heart belongs to no other, that I cannot fathom why God placed such a beautiful creation into my life.
I could tell you that your voice calms my anxiety, that you make me believe in myself, that the rain is beautiful only when it touches your skin.
But none of these words are as beautiful as what I feel for you. “I love you” doesn’t seem like enough to describe my emotions.
And maybe I am just infatuated with you,
But this is the most beautiful passion I have ever felt.

I know things are hard and we feel like giving up, but this earth is not binding our feet to the ground; we just have to reach a little higher.
We are not the product of our actions and words. With every rotation of the sun we are born again and have the chance to start over in a new, forgiving day.
Why are we dreaming of the day it will all come to and end when there are stars yet to be discovered, when there are people to meet and lives to change, when there are places to visit and cultures to learn?
This life is not about depression. This life is not about the moments we've spent wanting to give in.
This life is about the moment we decided we’re going to make it. The moment we decided the disorder is no longer going to control us. The moment we decided to reach a little higher.
Our story isn't over yet.
In some ways, it hasn't even begun.

You once said that I made you feel like you were living on the moon.
What you failed to mention was that we forgot to pack our space suits.
You failed to mention that without your helmet you were suffocating.

You once said that I made you feel like you were floating in the ocean.
What you failed to mention was that you can’t swim.
You failed to mention that your limbs thrashed in the water, desperate to keep you alive.

You once said that I made you feel like everything was okay.
What you failed to mention was that “okay” is apparently a synonym for “not as bad.”
You failed to mention that you still felt like the world was crashing down around you.

You once said that you weren't scared of anything.
What you failed to mention was that that included death.
You failed to mention that that would be the last time I saw you.

You once said that you knew I loved you.
What you failed to mention was that it didn't matter.
You failed to mention that it wasn't enough.

One person
once trusted
caught in a woven net
of their own poisoned personality.

Two people
twice capture
sharing secrets of hate
three feet away.

One person
once admired
now feeling alone
though I was once there.

Two people
twice loved
leaving me forever
when I need them most.

I
four times forgotten
wishing for anyone
to notice me again.

She wanted it to be different. She wanted to place the pieces of the puzzle together in a way that was not intended to fit, a way that would make people question if their puzzle was put together the way it was supposed to be, the way they were told it should be. She wanted to stand out from the norms that were set in front of her.

She wanted it to be different. She wanted to make hands tremble as she stood tall with radiating power. She wanted people to read her words and wonder why they ever thought things were okay to begin with, why people thought it mattered if someone was something other than what they believed they were to be. She wanted to be someone people would remember.

She said she was trying to find herself in words she could not mutter, words that drown her soul. She said “I can fix this” as she tried to erase the words she never wanted to have meaning, never wanted to make her feel like the world was pulling her at the seams. She wore her pink eraser down to a nub trying to dispose of pen ink that exposed what she thought of as “different.”

She said she found herself in the mistakes she made, in the words she never intended to write. She said her stories were supposed to be for other people to learn about themselves and instead made her learn that she is not what she thought she was. She said she hurt herself with stanzas that reminded her that her mind was not a fortress, that her thoughts were darker than she could ever imagine.

She controlled herself with the lines that she poured onto paper. She controlled every want, every thought, every action that could do harm to herself and others. She learned how to be kind and considerate. She learned how to love the parts of herself that she never knew existed.

She controlled her existence with the words she wrote, and with that control she learned how to exist.

I know you don’t love me anymore, and I want you to know that that’s okay.
I want you to know that I’ve stopped crying over you at night.
I no longer feel like there’s a ghost in my bed, sending chills down my spine that can never be warmed by the daylight.
I want you to know that you’re not the first face that I see in the hallway.
I know you’re no longer mine to search for.
I want you to know that I can listen to our song without a relapse of memories.
Last weekend my friends and I blared it out of the car windows.
I want you to know that the first snowfall is bearable now.
I know we danced in it once, but I’m okay with dancing alone.
I want you to know that I’ve stopped being bitter.
People fall out of love, it’s okay that you did too.
I want you to know that I can love again.
I know more about love than I did before.
I want you to know that I don’t hate you for leaving me.
I know I am not what you made me think I am.

I don’t know how to love someone like you.
You are a waltzing fire, crackling in the moon light as rowdy teenagers throw empty beer cans into your flames.
I am an unopened book, untouched pages that have yet to feel the yearning hands of someone longing to read my story.
You don’t know how to love someone like me.
I am a soft breeze, birthing flowers and gently sweeping down the colors of autumns prime.
You are a tornado, turning a beautiful sky into destruction, tearing down homes and pulling up the roots I worked so hard to plant.
Maybe we don’t belong together.
Maybe I’ll wake up and realize you burned my pages or tore my flowers.
Maybe you’ll fall asleep and realize that my paper will not fuel you forever or that my wind is too weak to carry your debris.
I don’t know how to love someone like you.
You don’t know how to love someone like me.
But I’m willing to try if you are.

But my love, words cannot describe the moons love for daybreak, when people stop halfheartedly calling her beautiful and leave her alone with the man living on her

But my dear, no poem is enough to explain the loss of self she felt when man stepped foot on her bare surface, yet she was still forced to shine every night and show the retched face she calls home

But my angel, for centuries people wondered about the moon, why she shines full once a month, why no man was allowed to touch her

But my sweetest, why did the wonder stop when we forced ourselves upon her, when man kind stole objects from her surface and left his mark on her skin

But my star, she still shines bright, for there are ones who still wonder, who believe she is always whole, that she is never halfheartedly beautiful

But my moon, you are strong, your attackers did not seal any of your phases. You are no less. You are still a goddess in the night sky.

How did a girl keep me alive? Why am I dying without you? Why can’t I breath anymore? I loved you more than I loved myself and now I’m lost in a grave six feet under. Your eyes kept me out of water and now I’m drowning in a sea of my own darkness.
I’m terrified to love because of you. I’m terrified to call another girl mine.
What if they don’t taste like you did? What if their smell doesn't intoxicate me? What if they’re just like you and decide I’m not good enough to love?
I loved you with all I had and now I don’t have anything to give someone else. I want to love again. I want to forget about the almost year we spent together. I want someone to call me theirs again. I want to have a happily ever after. I just never thought you would be the one keeping me from it.
I never thought I would be without your arms, without your good morning texts. What if they don’t text me in the morning? What if their arms don’t make me feel safe like yours did? Why does that have to be past tense? Why are you past tense? Why am I still writing about you seven months later?
Why can’t I let go and love someone else?
Why am I so scared?
Why do you make me scared?

I see the galaxies that used to look upon simple things with beauty collapsing in your eyes
Now you just stare at the wall blankly wondering when it's all going to fall, hoping it crushes you under its weight
I miss how you used to look at me with star dust, we dreamed of a day that the sun would burn out so we could spend the night in each other's arms forever
Why am I trying to find you in the bottom of a drink, in the hands of a stranger, in the bed sheets that reek of cigarettes
I miss your floral scent and your alien eyes, you said we'd fly to Venus where everything was backwards, where we'd be able to stay together
Why did you let them chase you away from me
Why didn't you fight for us
Why didn't I
There was so much we could of done but you're afraid of zero gravity and I'm scared of suffocation
Did I suffocate you with my love when you made me feel like I was floating away
Now you wait for something to crush you and I drink to forget your name only to call it out to someone else
I want to go back to wishing on shooting stars and dreaming of a dark sun
I don't want these cracked ceilings and forgettable nights
I want Venus, where we're still together and galaxies are alive and well