I apologize for liking you on Hinge purely on intuition
It hurts to admit I mistook your kindness as a door open for my wonder

I’m sorry I yearned for you from the day I heard your most gentle voice
From the day we first met, when I tried to find you in the parking lot of a cinema, in the rain

Dearest,
I was up too many mornings, counting minutes from 6 a.m.
At the time you wake, even on Saturdays and Sundays
I secretly wish you slept more, to comfort the chest of my anticipation

I’m sorry to have learned your schedule, purely out of care, and also romance.
I honestly promise I do not stalk,
except through invisible feelings,
except through the way a body shows without touching or words without telling

But I’m sorry that I find your perfectly correct grammar in texts quite irritating.
Your composition too sensible and unbelievable
Your ignorance towards me, too hurting
I feel too jealous because you might never think of me in a soft pink light
Or because you might actually never think of me in any light

I’m very sorry however, as I think of you too frequently,
and I don’t know when that will end

It isn’t your fault.
This is surely, absolutely on me
for I know I lack colors
Both in flesh and feelings
As there are plenty of fish on Hinge; so open to the ocean of your eyes
I should be no obstacle to your perfect match and mutual passion

I regret swimming in the river of my endless, unrequited sea
I regret to have had this sort of courage with only you, which is oddly shocking
I’m sorry to bother you when I reach out to say  hi,
Because I carefully try to calibrate that weekly

I’m sorry for the hundreds of times I believed
there might be one-tenth of a chance
Of me and you,
in an alternative universe
where I might deserve you
Maybe?

And I apologize again for always bringing up movies with you, in sense and nonsense
Because I am unable to tell you what I want to
As my 29-year-old stupid inhibitions play around
I apologize if I behave disturbingly distant,
but I will always be curious about your birds, and your neck that hurts

As you can clearly see,
I am sorry for innumerable things

But
I am never sorry to have met you
I am never sorry to think of you, and write of you
I see you
in colors of pink, red, and yellow,
in colors of blue and sea
in embrace of distance and memory

I just wanted to put this all out
in any way
Let this be a digital ship-in-a-bottle,
in the middle of a vast ocean

i’m tired of writing these poems
tired of chasing the right words
for a feeling that never wanted to be named

tired that nothing i write
comes close to the way it felt
to love you
and lose you
and still carry it all

no stanza, no line,
no late night whisper into the void
has ever been enough

the love i have for you
deserves more than language
and yet
language is all i have

dear future me,

i don’t really know why I’m writing,
except maybe I hope you're still listening.
today she left.
and I don’t know if she’s ever coming back.
she smelled like smoke and sweet things
and something sharp I couldn’t name.

she said she’d be back soon.
grandma hugged me so tight,
I thought maybe she was saying goodbye for her.
but I smiled anyway.
because I still had that kind of hope.
the kind that doesn’t know better yet.

I feel something inside me trying to curl up and disappear.
but there’s another part of me
the part that wants to yell,
to make someone come back,
to ask, “was I not enough to stay for?”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
sometimes I laugh too hard just so I don’t cry.
sometimes I pretend I don’t care so no one asks.
but I do care.
I care a lot.

please don’t forget me.
don’t become so strong you stop feeling.
don’t cover me up with silence and call it healing.

whoever you are now,
i hope you still remember the sound of her leaving.
because it’s the only proof I have that I was here.

love,
me

(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

i don’t just crave validation,
i need it.
i need it like some people need a drink in their hands,
i need it like it’s the cigarette between my lips.

it’s the air in my lungs,
my food and my drink.
it’s not just music to my ears—
it’s the only sound i hear.

i know i’m not your favorite,
not really.
but you told me i was,
three months ago.
and i wrote that in my journal.
i etched that in my heart.

i hold up my poems,
these nonsense words i call art,
and i need a compliment,
i need a hug.
so that i know i’m not just some girl,
the girl you whisper about when she’s not there.
so that i know
there’s a reason i give and give.

so that i know i’m someone’s favorite.

I bite.
Not with teeth.
with silence,
with sharp glances,
with walls built higher than your reach.

I’m not cruel.
I’m just tired
of being kind first
and torn apart second.

You call it attitude.
I call it armor.
Because being soft
never saved me.
It only made the fall hurt more.

So I speak less now.
Agree less.
Trust less.
I pull away before someone has the chance
to walk out first.

It’s not that I don’t want love.
I’ve learned that even “I care about you”
can come with conditions.
Even soft hands
can leave bruises
you can’t see.

I bite
because once,
I didn’t.
And it nearly broke me.