And sometimes we'll go to 7 Eleven
Get slushies &
Stay up late

But sometimes it's just
You and I
And the balcony railing
And the endless sky

When I think of you
I feel warm
Not bonfire-raging-hot
But hearth and fireplace

The conversations we spared
In the school hallway
Or in line for lunch
Or passing by on our way home
I left happier

If only I knew
Really knew
How to write poetry
To do this feeling justice

Warm but not hot
Comfortable and
Home
But something I'm afraid to call Love

It's the feeling I get when
I'm with my mom
Or my sister
And I'm scared you don't feel it back

I wish I knew why
I see you as family-like
Not that you're a bad friend,
Of course, but
Am I really that clingy?

Or is this just good friendship
And I'm just really stupid
But I knew that already

I see the blood in your veins
As you look me in the eye
Metaphorically, because you don't
Have eyes,
Or theoretically, because you don't exist?
Nineteen years and I still
Find myself clawing
At that gray patch of sky
Six feet above
Nineteen years, and all my blood
Beats perfectly in sync with yours
Programmed, metric
The heart of the company
Nineteen years,
And the stains of ink blotting
Lines and stanzas on my page
Feel too much to bear
Like birds in the wind
Tumbleweeds
Like the maltodextrin nightmare
Bleeding from the scrape on my knee
Like the words I didn't say
Couldn't say
Dear Audience,
The last of myself
I may ever bear witness to
Bled out in the arms of a
Character I played