First love.
First lust.

Devotion.
Dedication.

Fate.
Faith.

Screams.
Scars.

Done­.
Dozing.

You're the Apple of my eye, the laces of my shoes, the breath of calm after an anxiety attack or heavy cry. You're the hand on my leg telling me I'm safe, the magnet which magnetised the needle in my homemade compass. You're the net of a dreamcatcher, the final **** after a long and exhausting hunt. You're the sensation of being warm and naked after a cold and wet day out in the snow, you're the report card with straight A's. You're there toe beans of a cute cat and the contagious laughter of a newborn too naive to realize that everyone in the room is only laughing because they keep laughing harder, the positive feedback loop exhausted by cheeks too tired to smile and a diaphragm too used to move.

The sensation of being tucked in, but not too tight. The phenomenon of waking up in your bed because you passed out on the couch and your dad carried you in.

You're the dream where you fall in love and everything is perfect and great, but when you wake up you carry over that charm into your day to day life and everything starts to go your way. You're the fortune cookie with a fortune of the numbers 3,4,8,17,20,26,38,48,70 and the phrase saying "your long held-onto grievances will vanish soon, you will find your peace."

You are the learning, growing pupil of the Master of the Way. You are the concept of fairness and rightfulness, of non-ownership and laissez-faire government and home. You are the beacon, cooking a warm meal at the stove, so tuned into her world. You are the day dream, where the ordinary melts and the extraordinary takes over our surroundings and enchants our creativity while boosting and fanning that little flame in our hearts that keeps us going.

You are the first kiss of morning, with morning breath so stagnant from an unexpected ****** release at 4 am and an explosion of positive neurotransmitters, the development of trust in each other's arms. You are the attempt to synchronize heartbeats in a very tight spooning position. You paint the image of our energies moving in complex shapes before entering the other, circling inside and maturing, then entering back into the other. The ouroboros of emotion and trust and love.

You're what I see when I close my eyes, and you're what I want to see when I open them. You're the concept of someone I can truly let be. The independent, growing college girl with her whole life adventure ahead of her.

You're the angel on my shoulder which speaks to me words of reason and progress and helps me ignore this rotten goblin on the other shoulder. You're the voice I hear say "I really like them, honestly," when I see tracers in my vision.

You're a lighthouse in my mind. One safe thought, one place I can escape to for safety. But that's not really you, it's just my concept of you and my memories. But sometimes just that thought is enough to fuel it, because I'll be thinking of you more than I actually see you and I need to find the best way to deal with both.

I don't want to put you on some unreasonable pedestal and I don't think I have. I only truly mean like a third of what I said about the poetic "you are"s, because it would be unreasonably romantic to truly believe most of that. But I believe it in spirit and that's what matters.

You're the voice whispering me to sleep, and the reason I don't always have to wear ear plugs any more. You're the person I imagine running their fingers up my arms and into my hair when I watch ASMR vidoes. You trigger my ASMR and almost no one before you has been so successful in doing so. My body responds to you naturally in burst and quivers of euphoria and satisfaction, the curiousity of how you can pleasure and tingle me and how I can please you.

Rubbing your back and shoulders, popping your back ever so slightly, exploring the surface of your skin in every area. I want to learn and map your topography and dimensions and watch those change gradually over time as you mature into this yogi goddess with such a brain it's astounding.

You inspire me. You're such a hard worker and you're so much further than your circumstances could have put you. You're so strong Zo. Even if you feel like you're breaking sometimes, you're handling the pressure better than I ever could.

I'm grateful for my time with you, but I'm even more grateful for the peace you've helped bring to my tumultuous mind.

I hope you're getting just the most wonderful sleep. Dreaming of forgotten kindoms, songs never heard, places and euphorias never felt or synchronized with. You're a good person.

Caught in a hurricane.
My skin is freezing beyond the point of goosebumps,
I'm letting go-
Holding on and you're letting go
Let me go.

Fingers slipping
Frozen
Wet.
My grasp weakens, you're breaking away.
Maelstrom to my harbor.

I can't breathe,
Every gasp I take is water,
Drowning every time.
My air is gone.

Blacked out sun.
It's like night
But not as beautiful.
This is a swamp of pain
I can't let go.

I will sail
Torn flags, I will sail
By God I will sail.
Maelstrom, hurricane, thunderstorm,
I will hold on.

You make me bleed
When I can't hear you speak.
You make me cry
When you don't lie.
You make me ache
When your intentions aren't fake.

Don't get my hopes up.
Then shoot me.

Dreaming away my days and nights,
You’re always in sight,
The prospect of you drives me,
No other place I’d rather be.

Craving like no other,
Necessity within me,
Needing you so much,
I can barely see.

Your light is bright,
Guiding me gently,
Through the waters in life,
Through this great sea.

And when my oceans are blue,
I have one levity, you.

Every single day.
Every single day I want to reach into my pocket.
Find your name.
And fix everything.

I want to tell you I love you.
You were my best friend.
I want you.
I didn’t have ***.
I don’t care that you did.
I care about you.
I love you.
I will always be in love with you.
We made promises.
I want to say anything and everything.
I want to go to your house, hundreds of miles away,
And knock on the door.

Nothing I can do will fix anything but,
CHRIST.
I think about you.

I still have that lovely morning photo.
You’re perfect.
My brain makes my eyes see you everywhere.

I wish it wasn’t wrong.

Lightning and thunder and little pitter patter,
Snowfall and coffee and Halloween masks,
Orange and red and all the color leaves,
Couldn’t distract from that beauty you hold,

Like complimenting colors the world turns,
The sun shines from all angles upon you,
Whispering those soft secrets in my ear,
You’re like a new color on the painter’s palette.

A color I call Beau.

-July 8th 2013

I know you’ll find your way,
You’re strong,
Strongest woman I’ve ever met actually,
Gorgeous too,
Intelligent.

You can live without me,
And though months it may take,
I will live without you.

You couldn’t be the one, you know
I worship you,
But you hurt me, ignore me.
You don’t love me, not much at least.

I wanted to spend my life with you, but it looks like things have changed.
I promised you, “I will love you as long as you will let me.”
You will not.
I cannot.

Goodbye, Belle. Your name means beautiful, and if you take nothing more from me,
Know that you can, and will be wanted, loved.

I need closure. I need joy in my life.

I just wanted to let you know, that.
Well, I'm working on forgiving myself.
It's getting easier. I'm getting healthier.
I laugh more. I look around more.
I see the world for its beauty, not its pain.
I love life. I love how the sun rises and the earth spins.
I love my books and my dad and my puppy in puppy heaven.
I love my soul, and Tyler's soul and my grandparents. And many more.
And I don't think I love you and that's okay. I was wrong. You were right about me being wrong.
Love isn't the only thing that matters.
I used to believe it was.

I was wrong. And that's okay.
Life is a learning lesson and I'm only 16 years and 340 days old.
I've got a lot of learning to do.

I won't cut again. I'm sorry I did. But I like this new scar.
It feels cool and looks cool and I like what it reminds me of.
Because most memories of you are pleasant even though they're terrifying and I hate them. To clarify: you didn't make me cut.
You were just added weight to my trigger.
Especially. The uh. Hm. That one thing that you only told two people or so you told me.

I miss Belle. She was my best friend.
I love her to death. Always will.

And I miss the Faith that was once my best friend but she doesn't exist anymore.
She had ***. Almost with three different men, I was almost one of them. But she had *** with just one. I hope.

I drink more water nowadays. It helps clean my system. I write less poetry. And that's okay.

I'm reading Fight Club. I can relate a lot to it. ****-
                                                                                       rule No. 1.
I'm doing more school work. I'm done with work next week.
I miss taking care of dogs and chickens. Turns out I liked it.

I take more Marshall time now. That's a good thing.
I deserve it.
But I'm also terrible busy.

In Jazz Band, we're playing a kinda ****** piece instead of one that we've been working so ******* and I feel kind of betrayed.
I play trombone. Jazz and Wind Ensemble.

I've been ******* more lately and I don't quite know why.
It's not loneliness. I think it's just honest *** drive.

This chick at work is really cool and attractive and I kind of feel bad for leaving because we connect really well.
I want to see if I can get her number.
She has nice eyes and is relaxed with me. I love it.
And her voice is lovely. She's relatively short, that's honestly the only iffy.
And I don't know how old she is.

I'm glad you turned my note into the office.
Don't know why I wrote my whole name on it AND put my emblem in the corner. It's supposed to be a supplement for my name...

I'm sorry that you had to be the one to help me. It should have been somebody who didn't hate me. Kind of upside down, don'tcha think?

I've only had one dream about you since we split. The night after it happened.
I dreamt about Belle the night after that :)

Music doesn't feel as good as it used to. My taste has changed with this schism.
Silverstein still feels good but not as much as it used to. Atreyu is closer to home, but I wore that out. Chiodos is on the plate right now but I feel like that will waste soon. I'm feeling like I should try pop.

Alie, the server manager at work, also my neighbor, is my mother figure. My grandmas are getting old. My aunts have disappeared. My papa is getting old and it saddens me. I love him to death. He was my childhood. I will be the hardest crier at his funeral. I'm tearing up already.
But not yet. He still cooks. He still laughs. And loves.


You will never read this. And that's okay.
I needed this. Not you. Me.

Cause I'm ******* awesome and no other should be able to drag me down.
Because they will ALWAYS try.

(I still want *** though. Emily is one of the things my brain thinks about, but when I'm fantasizing alone in the dark or shower or something, I always think of Belle. Every time. I can't shake her and I don't want to. She is the dream.)
(But so is MY future. I just hope she's part of it, but if not entirely, that's okay. I want to be a pharmacist. Or something like that. Preferably pharmacist. I've looked up a lot on how to make it happen.)
(7-11 Coffee is my favorite. But Dee's is really good too.)

Te Amo.
~M