last night, I pulled out all of my fears
every worry of mine
every thought that keeps me up at night
every piece of doubt

and I watched intently
as they were set on fire,
as they turned to ash,
as the smoke floated freely

and I took deep breaths
and everything is okay

somewhere in the dark
she found his heart,
lying among the others in the storm
bleeding but beating

she took it in her hands,
carefully wrapped it up,
and sheltered it
in the safest place she knew

the next morning she set to work,
stitching the wounded pieces
until his heart was strong again
it beat hard and happy now,
but it was useless without its body

she set out on her journey to find him,
the black clouds rolled in,
she dodged trees blown over by wind,
she dodged flashes of lighting that
appeared just before her eyes

she was just about to save him
when she felt a famililiar pain in her chest
it felt as though a knife was stabbing her
in and out, in and out, in and out
she felt the blood pour from her heart
into her chest
and she fell for the first time
in a long time

she looked over to find him lying on the ground
and whispered her apologies
because one mended heart has a will to repair another
but a broken heart is useless in the darkness

your name is a poem and a prayer
and I spend hours reflecting on it
and reciting it before bed
whether I hope to memorize it
or use it as an incantation is unclear
I write it out on notebooks
I write it out on scraps of paper
I almost tattoo it in permanent marker
all over my arms
instead I type it on an otherwise blank screen,
checking it for something I missed before
I've read it backwards several times
and I've moved the letters
to spell several phrases,
none of which compares to the original arrangement
I've analyzed your name for just one hint
of the person it labels,
but I find no warning
for a boy with bright eyes
and a brighter smile
who once loved a girl with a now-forgotten laugh
and a freshly wounded heart
I close my eyes
your name is the sigh on my lips
as I finally give in to sleep

Sometimes,
perfect timing
is more important
than a perfect match.

I'm too confused to turn my thoughts into poetry so I let them mix together like paint until I make a nasty, muddled mess. I'll glop them on a canvas and call it "Love, I Guess." I'd like to crack your skull open so you can feel this raw. Then I'd fill your head with termites and watch them as they knaw. I want you to feel helpless so you can understand why I'm so breathless. Why am I so loveless? Why am I so hopeless? Just feel nothing and everything all at once, or, rather, everything and do nothing about it. Maybe I'll feel nothing so I can do everything wrong. I'll dance a dance or sing a song and let rain fall around me without covering my hair because I just don't care anymore. I just don't care. I'm in like and love and hate and jealousy and loneliness and an unfailing passion to have everything I've never had before. Crack my head open and take out my limbic system. Let me be numb. Take out the memories. Let me be dumb. Clean it all off and put it back in. Let me feel whole again.

As the rain drummed quiet beats on the window,
I wondered what your favorite song was.

As thousands of books greeted me in rows and on shelves, I wondered if you read poetry.

As I laid in bed, missing your laugh and the smile that goes with it, I realized I don't know much about you.

But as you drove down the highway, windows down, music playing as I sat in the passenger seat,
finally happy,
I knew that I would spend forever learning.