He feels like that moment when
you put on new glasses and
realize that the wall has a texture.
I had forgotten what it felt like to
blush all over my body. When I
was fifteen I realized that jumping
from heights clears your lungs in
a way that crying in bed never
could. He’s never made me feel
like drowning. He’s only ever felt
like the air at the top of a cliff;
he’s only ever felt like clarity.
we talked about your death in my car at ten o’clock
in a deserted parking lot. you were in the driver’s
seat, lights turned off, music turned on.
and you told me that i wouldn’t care anyway,
so why does it matter?
and so i screamed at you, trying to make you understand
why the hell i care so much about you.
but i’ll never have the words to explain why and how i love you.
i just want you to know
and accept that i do, that you can’t leave
this world without taking me with you because
there’s no way i’ll be okay without you here.
and i wish you could just get it and think about it for
even a second, because,
i love you.
and there’s no other way to say it than that.
I’m not the girl your mother warns you about.
I won’t kiss your best friend or break your heart.
I won’t make you choose between what you love to do & me.
I’m not cold. I’m not reckless.
I’m the girl your father mentions when your mom’s not around.
I’m the girl that gets away.
I will love you more than anything.
I will kiss you when you cry.
I will stand by your side until you decide otherwise.
And you’re just like your father, so you will.
You’ll let me go & I won’t look back,
But you will.
I promise you, you will.
I’m that girl.
My English teacher always tells me
that poets choose their words carefully;
they always pick the best possible words
to include in their poetry.
That they spend long, endless hours
laboring over word choice.
That they don’t just write a poem in one sitting.
So I guess I’m not really a poet,
just a lonely girl spilling words onto paper
without really knowing what words to say.
And I guess that’s okay because
I usually am writing
I went to church today.
And as soon as I walked through the open doors
I couldn’t breathe because
it smelled like you.
I realized that it wasn’t the church
that smelled like you,
but that you smelled like the church.
And I wonder how many hours you have to spend there to
go to class,
and still have an unreachable,
scent about you.
So I decided,
when I sat down in that wooden chair,
that I would treat you like a deity,
and let you alone
because I would never
to spoil something so very