"But what if we're wrong?"
It was silent
But her thoughts echoed around in my head as we laid on top of her pickup truck
I swatted at the eighteenth mosquito chewing on my leg
I don't want this to be love

We were tangled up in the acoustic music they play on the radio on Sunday mornings
She was trying to dream up something clever to write about
And I was pretending I could learn to play guitar through osmosis,
As if blending myself in with the harmonies, finding her in every lyric, and sheer willpower would give me wings or at least magic guitar hands

She set the alarm, checked it over and over
She was not going to be late for her first day
I told her I'd be asleep when she got home, she told me she knew
I told her to wake me up

I wasn't looking for perfect
Perfect really only applies in first year physics courses
After that, we learn to fall in love with "rough around the edges" or "unique" or "unfinished"
As if their life is a puzzle that we need to complete
Just so you know, it isn't

She bought me breakfast and dropped me off
She used to tell me she loved me, but I know she didn't
She does now, so she doesn't have to say it anymore
When I said, "love," before, I didn't really mean it
Not like I mean loving the garden on the balcony of her apartment or thunderstorms in May
Even if I was a puzzle that she completed (and I'm not saying that I am), we didn't need any glue to fit perfectly

Paper cuts on wrist linger:
     like trickles of pain,
     bearable to hold;
     with trickle of tears,
     little to be told.

Invisible abrasions:
    on skin so precious,
    patches of triumph;
    the battle rages on,
    wince at every sting.

Unnecessary bandages:
    don't elevate pain,
    hide struggles under;
    to embrace each scrape,
    takes more than courage.
    
Petroleum jelly helps:
    fingertips cover,
    dollops to ease itch;
    sometimes humans need,
    catalysis to heal.

last night i got angry
        it was a very strange feeling because
i've never really gotten   angry before


i got so angry i went outside and
                ripped 3 branches of leaves from a bush

i stared at them
               a plant's livelihood
sitting in my hand
and suddenly i was a murderer

i began to cry
and cry and cry
i didn't want to get that angry
or go ballistic
but i felt mad
in more ways than one.